Daughter of the Bat: Don't tell
by Nerdy Lyss
Summary: As Delilah Wayne can attest, being the daughter of the Dark Knight is complicated. Shoved into a life with a father she barely knew Del had to fight to rebuild her fragile world. Years after her mother's death, murders with the same MO begin to pop up around the city, dragging her deeper into her father's world. Del knows she must risk everything or she'll lose those she loves.
1. Words unspoken

"Delilah _Wayne_?"

"Are you sure?!"

My mother's hand felt warm around mine, reassuring me with a squeeze. But even now the memory of her is distorted over the bulbous oxygen mask. I like to think she didn't look terrified. That her pale green eyes weren't glossy with the sheen of unshed tears. She flinched at the sound of the voices whispering in the hall, but simply blinked her wet lashes, and gave me the best smile she could manage.

"It'll be alright Baby." She said, pressing her lips to my small fingers.

In the concophany of monitors and intercoms there were words that made my mother seem to jump. Confidential. Secret. "Breach of contract". I realize now, it was the first time anyone outside my parents knew of my identity. That included me too. Not that I understood the gravity of it at the time.

"Okay, Delilah, you ready?"

My mother rose from her chair as a team in blue and green scrubs crossed the threshold. Dr. Elliot tried to offer me a kind smile, but as my bed was being wheeled away, I began to panic. "Mama!" The mask muffled my plea, as my mother's hand slid from mine. "It'll be okay, Honey, you need to relax." A nurse said, keeping me steady. In my struggle the stuffed Batman that was clutched to my chest, slid to the floor. "My Batman!" I twisted my head, just in time to see the man I knew as "Mr. Wayne" bend down and pick it up. I can't say when he arrived on the scene. But knowing what I know now, the memory is ironic as hell.

Someone's hand reached out and traded out my mask.

"Can you count backwards from ten for me?" Dr. Elliot asked, as we arrived to a larger room, full of things that now give me the creeps. I think I made it to eight.

When I first opened my eyes, he was a blur, a broad shouldered shape painted against the wide pane of the window. It was the first time I had seen him so disheveled. Having ditched his coat and tie on an empty chair, he had unevenly rolled up his sleeves. I watched him try to sweep away wayward hair. Still fisted in his hand, was Batman.

"Bruce, you don't have to stay." My mother said, softly, cutting across my vision to hand him a cup of coffee. Their hands seemed to linger together. "I just want to be sure—"

I was caught.

"Someone's awake."

My mother beamed. "How do you feel?"

My chest ached something fierce, but I think I was too hazy to care. "I don't know." Even words didn't feel right. But my response seemed to pull Mr. Wayne's lips into a weak smile. "You'll be fine." he told me, setting Batman by my pillow. My mother sat on the edge of my bed, just as Dr. Elliot poked his head through the door. "Bruce, a word? We've got a paparazzi mob building out front. "

"Sure, Tommy."

He gave my mother's shoulder a squeeze. "Take as much time as you need. The office can wait."

"Thank you…for everything."

The silence could have been filled with a multitude of words. I sometimes wonder what he would have said if he had known it was the last time he'd see my mother alive. But he only nodded, and quietly slid out the door. Only my farther would know, and I've never had the courage to ask.

* * *

**Many months earlier…**

* * *

In a modest neighborhood, someone like Bruce Wayne stuck out. "Shall I wait for you, sir?"

"No, Alfred."

Bruce stepped from the car and into the damp October weather. Dry leaves scraped across the concrete, scattering around the trunks of bare branched trees. The streets were eerily quiet. Not at all like the inner city of Gotham. Before he could knock on the door, it sprung open, letting the smell of pumpkin spice and cinnamon, waft into the air.

"Mama! Someone's at the door!" Standing in the door way was a small girl, donned in a black and yellow tutu, with batman plush doll. Her eyes were as blue as his own. For a second he wasn't sure if he could breathe.

"You don't just open the door for someone you don't know!"

Paige Larson immediately filled the space. "Bruce. Come in." The child he had seen only in pictures had changed, but her mother hadn't changed from the day she began working in Wayne Enterprises' PR department. She was a small woman, but what she lacked in size she made up for in personality. And her smiles? They could have melted him. Her dark chestnut hair was caught in a messy bun, but her pale green eyes were as bright as ever.

"Thank you."

The child pounced in front of him. "Who are you?"

"Delilah Bay! Mind your manners…this is my _boss_-Mr. Wayne.

Delilah, made a small curtsy, and then zipped around her mother into the living room behind her. "Is that one of my towels?"

"Don't you know a cape when you see one?!"

Paige let out a sound, something caught between a sigh and laugh."I'm sorry to make you do a house call." She said at last. "I have the paperwork in the kitchen." Truth was, Bruce never made house calls. They both knew why he was there. Three years ago, this woman had quite literally bumped into his life. Coffee stains, dress shirts and paperwork were involved. And yet somehow with such a chaotic start, something came of it. Of course it would later result in the birth of his daughter. A daughter who was jumping from the love seat to the sofa, with a towel tied around her neck.

"It's quite alright." he said, sliding out of his jacket. "She's got skills." Paige's face flushed, as their daughter, leapt and kicked from one piece of furniture to the next.

"It'd be a miracle if she makes it to ten."

As he followed her to the small open kitchen, he couldn't help but let his eyes wander. Casts of tiny feet. Handprint paintings and toothy smile pictures. These were things you wouldn't find in the decor of Wayne manor. In fact they had decided that it would be safer for Delilah if he didn't publicly claim her at all. But that didn't stop his curiosity. A sudden crash tore away his attention. Delilah stood guiltily over a toppled lamp.

"I think our job is done." The words he realized were short and struggling. Most kids could maintain being so active. But then again, Delilah was not like most kids. The moment Paige placed her thin hands on her hips Delilah made short work of righting the mess. Bruce knew that look. He had gotten that look a time or two. The outcome however, was much different.

"Need the inhaler?" It was then Wayne noticed the array of pill bottles lined on the counter. Each bottle presented a label just for Delilah. The child shook her head. "Time to cool it." Conceding to her mother, the child plopped on the worn out sofa. Clearly it wasn't the first time the furniture had met with Batgirl.

"What do the doctors say?" Bruce asked, nodding to the small pharmacy. Paige's response was to open a cabinet.

"Coffee?"

When he nodded, she continued.

"They're talking about doing a surgery to try and repair the valve in her heart." Paige paused, as if the deep breath she was taking would push back the overwhelming fear he saw written on her face. "Some say it's a good idea. Others say it's an unnecessary risk."

Bruce rescued the mugs from her hands, closing the space between them when the woman shook her head. "I don't know. I don't know if it's the right choice." Her fingers were warm beneath his. "If it comes to that, I'll make some calls." Giving her hand a squeeze he helped himself to the coffee pot.

"Mama? Can you fix this?" Composing herself, Paige turned to her daughter as she presented her with Batman, the seam in his arm had popped, exposing the white cotton underneath. "He was wounded."

"Put him next to the sewing kit. I'll fix him up later."

"Can I carve my pumpkin while I wait?"

"Newspaper, lots of newspaper."

As Delilah skipped away, Bruce handed her a cup. "Strange taste in toys."

"Strange? Or ironic?" Paige frowned into the cup when she realized he gave it to her completely black. "How you drink coffee should be criminal."

His lips twitched. "It's better than wearing it."

"Batman made front page again." Turning to the sound of Delilah's voice, the both peered down at the quilt of newspaper the child had made in the corner of the kitchen. 'Do you have some time tonight? I realize it's already late, but I found something I think you need to see." Eyeing his black and white portrait, Bruce nodded. "That bad?"

Paige, had the oven door open, filling the room with warmth. "You won't be happy about it." She warned, pulling pie from the oven. Between putting it down and burning her hand, she noticed that her small child had made off with the largest butcher knife in the block.

"Yeah, that's a _no_."

"But MOM…"

Bruce's cup made a soft thud on the table. His deft fingers made short work of rolling up his sleeves. "Let me see that knife or else your mother might have a coronary." Paige didn't know what to say, watching as he took the knife from Del, kneeled down and to cut the top of the pumpkin out, revealing a world of pumpkin gore to the child.

"Ewww…that's awesome."

"Del, what do you say?"

"Thank you."

This type of moment wasn't in Bruce Wayne's repertoire of life skills. In truth he was winging it. It was normal for fathers to be sitting on the kitchen floor, smearing pumpkin guts on the pictures of Superman just to make a kid laugh. (But let's be honest defacing Superman felt pretty good too.) But like his daughter, Bruce Wayne was not quite normal.

"I wasn't expecting that." Paige murmured softly, as if her voice could stir the batgirl who was sprawled out on the sofa. "You didn't have to you know…" she amended, eyeing the jack o' lantern. Its smile was lopsided and toothy and be damned if it wasn't covered in bats. One might think that would be the child's idea, but Paige knew better.

"You've got a…' Bruce stilled as Paige reached up and pulled a pumpkin string from his shirt. The second she went to pull her hand away, his fingers wrapped around her wrist. The way he looked at her now made it hard to breathe. "I know." She could feel the words murmuring long before her ears caught them. His palm slid up her arm, to cup her cheek. This side of Bruce Wayne, she knew. "No." She whispered, feeling him pull her face toward his own. The feel of lips was light and sweet, tasting of pie coffee and regret. When she finally freed herself, he let her slip away from him, shaking her head. "Let me get my laptop, so you can see what I've got." Without another word or so much as a look back she slid into the darkness of the living room.

Paige returned quickly, her lip nestled into her teeth as if she could still taste him lingering there. What had been here between them split between fondness, admiration and lust. It filled the void. Neither dared to call it anything more.

Bruce straightened as a computer was set in front of him. "Tell me what _you_ see."

It didn't take long for him to notice that a bit of profit was being skimmed. Different accounts, small amounts, so small that most analysts wouldn't have noticed. "Every one of them is a Santa Prisca account."

"Yeah… So I asked around." Bruce looked away from the screen, raising an eyebrow at her.

She did nothing more than reach for a piece of the newspaper that was on the floor. Apparently she had become immune to his looks as well. "You've seen this right?"

The headline read out in thick bold type **Child Dies, Parents Blame "Zesti Soda"**

"Strangely enough, this, happened just before, the money started to disappear." She shrugged.

"Maybe I'm trying to connect dots that just aren't there. But since we partner with them so often, it has some people asking questions. It's a PR Nightmare."

Bruce took the paper from her, studying the picture of the small boy who could hardly be any older than Del. Strange rashes, vomiting blood. And the parents were certain had something to do with the soft drink.

"What does your gut say?"

Paige shook her head. "It doesn't feel right. Maybe it's just my "mommy mind" freaking out, because some poor kid died horribly. I don't know, but something feels off."

Bruce let the paper fall to the table. "Mentioned this to anyone else?"

"Of course not! I was kind of hoping you would tell me that it's crazy."

But as much as he wanted to, he couldn't. It was a curious coincidence. One he certainly didn't like. And he definitely didn't want her poking around in it.

"Is this everything you have?"

"So far."

"Stop digging. I'll take care of it."

"_Bruce_."

"_Paige_."

"You're not going to tell me anything are you?" she asked crossing her arms in front of her.

"No."

At that moment, not sharing what he knew or thought, seemed the safest option. How could he know that keeping Paige in the dark would have been one of the most regrettable mistakes of his life?


	2. The Darkest Night

**It's a bit on the violent side. Just thought I should warn you. **

* * *

"So what did you ask Santa for?"

Mom's voice rose over the din of the city streets, her hand was tightly around mine, as we marched along the busy sidewalk, reducing the snow and ice beneath our feet to slush.

Mom's breath left her in wispy clouds. "What if Santa can't arrange that?" She asked, stopping to rewrap my scarf around my neck. "Then Santa's a loser." My mother actually snorted.

Knowing what I know now about the jolly old fat man. I feel bad that I called my mom a loser. But the sound of her laugh has stayed with me.

I always thought that the day I met Batman would be one of the best days of my life. After all I was pretty sure that I'd make a great Robin. But I also believed in happily ever after, wishing on stars and the boogie man.

The night I came face to face with Batman, was one of the darkest of my life- and his too.

I learned that wherever Batman was, wickedness was sure to be.

* * *

It took some time to become accustom to the scar that marred her daughter's chest. "It's my battle scar." Thankfully it seemed to bother her, more than it bothered Delilah. "Yes, Ma'm. And you were brave." Their life had fallen into a careful routine. "Not at first, but I did okay." Recovery was done in baby steps, despite how the child wanted to leap and bound forward. Nothing was more heart wrenching or exhausting than having to hold Del back. "Okay, nightgown or Pajama pants and top?" Another long day had finally worn down to an inky black. Paige couldn't wait to crawl in bed. "Nightgown."

"Excellent Choice. Arms up."

"It's a stick up, right?"

"Yep."

"I'll tell Batman!"

"I'm not afraid of no bat." Paige teased, pulling the fabric of the grown down. Indeed there were far greater things to be frightened of.

"Okay, in bed."

Like clock work the child burrowed herself into her blankets.

"Snug as a bug in a rug?"

"Yep."

"Batman?"

Delilah held out the doll for her inspection "Yep."

"Is the night light in the hall on?"

"Yep."

"How much do I love you?"

"More than all the stars."

With that her mother pressed her lips to her cheek.

"Good night, Baby."

"Night."

With that her mother crept through her door.

"_Have you had your Zesti today? If you haven't you might want to put it back. It's alleged that five more deaths may be linked to the beverage. And While Zesti Cola is determined to stand by their product, many store chains are eager to pull the product from their shelves_."

The murmur of the television blurred into silence but just as the girl had slipped off; a piercing scream ripped her from her dreamless sleep. "Mama?" Del shivered, as her feet touched the floor, but when she was answered by the sound of glass shattering, she ran into the hall. "Mama?" Even in the darkness Delilah could make out the glint of the knife in her mother's hand. But she was not alone in the room. She had been cornered into the kitchen by two black shapes. "Run!"

But Del was frozen by the sheer terror that seeped from her mother's command.

"Don't just stand there Idiot! Go get the little runt." When one of the men made a move toward her, Paige reacted, stabbing the closest man to her. Del willed her legs to move, the moment she saw the dark stains hit the kitchen wall. "Jesus Christ you, fucking bitch!"

Racing for the front door she scrambled to twist the deadbolt, just as it clicked back, someone grabbed her by the back of her gown. The child screamed, fighting to hold onto the doorknob as her assailant tried to rip her away. "You're squirmy little shit." He smelled of booze, gunpowder, and something rotten. But somewhere in the struggle, the door had released. Letting her body fall, Delilah hit the ground hard, more aware of the fact that the front door was open than of the pain that buzzed in her elbows. She was so close to freedom, she could see the shadows of the house across the street, feel the cold air touching her face.

But Delilah was moving backwards, he was dragging her by her ankles, "No! Let go! Let go!" She cried, grabbing the bottom of the door.

"You let go!"

"Help! HELP ME!" Not even a light came on in the darkness. Her nails dug into the door, until there was nothing left to hold onto. The door was kicked closed. "Yo! What do you want me to do with this thing?"

"Lock it up or something. Do I have to think of everything?"

"Leave her alone! It's me you want!"

Del's screams, only met the man's hand.

"Pipe down pipsqueak."

But when Del was able to work her lips over, she opened her mouth, and bit down as hard as she could with her tiny teeth. He howled, dropping Delilah to the floor. Her mouth tasted of blood. But as she looked up, she found a barrel of a gun in her line of sight.

"I'm tired of playing games."

Pushed into a closet, Del was locked inside, forced to hear her mother's angry screams. No matter how she pushed or banged on the door, it held fast. When the child felt a metal hanger under her hand, it hit her. Isn't that what mom used when she had gotten locked out of the house? Straightening the hanger, the girl forced it through the doorjamb, so both ends were facing her. She pulled, with all her might, until the wire finally pushed against the latch and released the door, causing her to tumble out.

There was a massive pool of blood soaking the carpet, and there, laying on her side in it's center,was her mother. Just as the girl made it to her feet, the flash of a round lit up the darkness. Her mother's eyes were wide and weeping. Her daughter, her precious little girl was running to her. And there was nothing Paige could do to stop her.

"Fuck, it got loose."

"I thought you locked that door!"

When the first man went for her, she leapt, grabbing the back of the couch, bouncing on to the cushions and rolling to the glass littered floor. Just as he reached for her, Delilah's fingers tightly around a shard of glass. When he lifted her off the floor by her gown, she stabbed. "I'll be the last thing you ever see!"

As she fell, the large bay window imploded, causing Delilah, to roll towards the sofa, trying to protect herself from the shower of new glass.

"It's the Bat!"

Her head snapped up as gunfire rang out. Batman. Crawling on her hands and knees, Del, moved to her mother. The floor was saturated. "Mama!"

Placing both hands on the hole in her mother's side, she pressed, willing with all her might to stop the blood from escaping. "Mama, what do I do?! Tell me what to do!" As the batteranges whizzed by her head, Paige's arm reached up, pressing the girl's head down. "Stay… down."

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as one man was launched through the wall, the other, flattened as if he stood even the slightest chance.

"Paige!" his eyes were wide as he crouched to her side.

"Help me save her, please. Please, please PLEASE!" Delilah sobbed when his gloved hand pressed onto of her small ones.

The quiet was broken with the screams of sirens. The flashing lights brought sleepy eyed neighbors shuffling to their front yards, unaware of the terror that had taken place just a short distance away from their beds.

"Keep her safe…and happy...for me."

When the paramedics rushed in, the dark knight rose to his feet, Picking up the bloodied child as if she weighed nothing at all.

"_Wait_! Mama has to come with us. Mama has to come too!"

But he kept going, glass crunching under his booted feet.

"MAMA!" The harder she screamed, the harder he held her, unsure if he was muffling her cries into his shoulder for her…or himself. No one dared to take the child from him until she had been reduced down to hiccups.

"There's nail marks on the front door, bloody foot prints, and a broken closet door with a hanger wire nearby. And he says that the kid was the one who stabbed him in the eye..." Delilah followed the detective's thumb as he motioned to the two who were now in handcuffs. They were slumped against the cop car bloodied and beaten.

"For something so small, she put up a hell of a fight and in her condition…." The officer shook his head.

"We need to get her out of here before the media shows up. They'll have a field day with this."

Delilah's foot jerked as the last piece of glass was removed. Forcing her to look away from the group of officers who seemed to be milling about down to the paramedic who was tending to her dangling feet. "Sorry kiddo, I just have to wrap them up."

"Delilah, do you have any other relatives? Aunts or uncles? Grandparents?"

"Just Mama." she whispered, whipping her nose on the blanket, minding the oxygen tubes that now sat by her nostrils. Now that the adrenaline was wearing thin, her small body was filled with anxiety. Go? Where else could she go? This was all she ever had.

Delilah was the first to notice the sleek black car, but then one by one the officers were craning their necks just to get a look as an elderly gentleman stepped out. Carrying his coat over his arm, he worked his way toward the group. "I'm sorry, sir, you'll have to back away from the tape line."

"I'm here for Miss Delilah." He announced, fishing a white sheet of paper from his breast pocket. The officer who checked it, seemed paler than he did before. He lifted the tape so he could duck easily underneath. "Let him through."

Delilah didn't move as he approached, watching the lights of the cruisers gleam off of his silver hair.

"Miss Delilah, my name is Alfred." he said, crouching in front of her, minding the paramedic's work space. "I work for Mr. Wayne and he would like it very much if you came to stay with us."

"How long do I have to stay?"

"Indefinitely, my dear."


	3. The Truth

**I just wanted to say thank you for the reviews! They're greatly appreciated! I also want to mention, that there's quite a few more characters in this story than the tags would allow. Such as Dick, Bane, and yes, Hush. (Just to name a few.) I hope you guys enjoy the next part of Del's journey. This is probably going to be updated weekly. (Unless I can't help myself and finish chapter 4 tomorrow.)**

**-Lyss**

* * *

Alfred's not a man of many words, but when he opened his mouth, it always seemed to exactly the right thing. Tucked into the back seat, his coat wrapped around me and my bloody night gown, he didn't say much at all, if anything. I can only imagine what kind of memories that night had brought to the forefront of his mind.

The window felt cold against my cheek as I leaned against the glass, watching how the houses begin to lessen the further we drove from Gotham. Soon there were no houses at all, just blackness and the occasional wandering lights from the oncoming traffic. But those too stopped appearing. Or maybe I had fallen asleep, for the next thing I can recall, is feeling as though I might fall when the door gave away, but_ he _was there to catch me. He was always there to catch me.

* * *

One moment, Mama was tucking her in, the next she was waking in a room she hardly recognized. Her breath hitched as reality began to sink in. Her nightmare…was no dream at all. Sitting up in a sea of blankets, dressed in an unfamiliar tee-shirt the child let her eyes adjust to the dusky hue of the room. The kind of color that sets in when the night begins to lose its battle with the day.

Working herself out of the twisted sheets, Delilah slid to the floor, clenching her teeth when her gauze wrapped feet hit the floor harder than expected. Tears automatically welled up in her eyes_. "It's okay to cry, Baby, but count to ten and take a big deep breath" _Some thought it was strange, that Paige had taught her daughter to count when she cried. As if it was something cruel. But it stopped the tears more often than not. _"_One…two… three…" Softly she counted to ten, let her breath out, and took the next step. It still ached, but not nearly as bad. Slowly she crept to the window, barely tall enough to peek out into the fog.

Below her, a Garden of Eden, dotted with fountains and lined with topiaries that seemed to stretch out into the sky. But there on the lawn was a man, leaping, and kicking into the air as if he had some unseen opponent. Surely only ninjas knew how to do that sort of thing. The idea was quickly dismissed, when voices began to rise beyond the walls.

"It's _not_ my fault!"

"Like hell! He told _you_ to keep watch on them!"

"I'd been watching them for weeks! Last night was the _only_ night-"

"Yeah, and look what happened, Jason. You got careless."

It took some courage before Del could manage to wander into the hall. The last time she had gravitated toward raised voices, things were horrific at best. Just at the base of the stairs, two new, exasperated faces. Two boys, both were certainly older than her, but "Dick" was taller and even older than his counterpart. Still not quite sure, Delilah took the stairs a slow step at a time.

"Shut up, Dick. You're starting to sound like Bruce."

"That makes one of us at least."

"Fuck you, it wasn't a compliment."

When the step squeaked in protest under the girl's foot, she froze, clinging to the banister railings for dear life. Both their heads snapped up. For a moment Jason just glowered at her, before storming off, muttering who knows what under his breath.

That left Dick standing at the bottom of the stairs. "Hi."

Del slid down and sat on the step, reminding herself to take a breath as he bound up a couple steps, and sat down himself. "What's your name, Kiddo?"

"Delilah." She murmured, watching the creases form around his dark eyes as his mouth broke into a smile. Twisting toward her, he stretched his hand out to her. His fingers clasped her hand easily. "I'm Dick." As his hand fell away, he stood up. "Want to see something cool?" When the girl nodded, the young man took a breath, and then proceeded to do a series of twisted flips down the stairs. Reaching the bottom he simply straightened himself and took a bow.

The child grinned. "What if you messed up?" She asked. Dick started back up the stairs, but stopped to make a face as if he were actually pondering her question. "It would hurt." He said, reaching out to pull the girl to her feet.

"I'm not going to get in trouble am I?"

"For what?"

"Calling you Dick."

The boom of his laugh was a welcomed sound.

"Hey Alfred, look what I found." The kitchen was full of cloudy light, and the smell of bacon. Alfred was facing the stove, pans sizzling away in front of him. At the small island, Jason sat, letting his fork fall to his plate with a clink.

"Miss Delilah. Well, good morning." Alfred greeted her. "Quite the early bird I see." Dick stared down at the floor rubbing his neck before looking back up. "Yeah…we probably woke her up, sorry."

"You two could have woken the dead." His voice sent a chill up her spine long before the cool air swept in from behind him. Bruce mopped his face with a towel before setting it around his shoulders. Del, immediately went for him. "Mr. Wayne…where's my mom?" A fragile stillness crept into the room, forcing Bruce down on his haunches.

His fingers felt cold against her temple, as they brushed the hair from her face. "Del, your mom was hurt very badly." But of course she knew that.

"Is she okay now?" But she knew the answer; Bruce could see it, as the girl fought to keep her emotions in check, but the tears were already coming. "She's going to be okay, right?" Goddamn it. She was too young for this.

"No, Del."

Her trembling mouth fell letting a sob slip by her lips. Reaching out to her, the small body collapsed into his arms.

"Well, there goes my appetite." Jason grumbled, shoving his plate away.

"Master Jason!"

Bruce didn't even look in his direction. He only made a mental note to deal with it later, as the kid left the room, Dick hot on his heels. Jason had been so full of rage lately; it was starting to leak into everything. He had hoped that making Jason Robin, that he would find discipline. That it would help him, but so far, the kid seemed unreachable. It was certainly a conundrum, but at this moment he couldn't focus on that.

Right now, there was a child sobbing into his Gi. _His_ child. A child who just had her entire world turned upside-down. And to think, he and Paige had thought it was safer this way. The thought was insulting. Unsure of what to do, he rose from the ground. He knew all too well what it had felt like to have all you've ever known ripped from you. He simply held onto her, trading glances with Alfred when she began to softly count. When she reached ten, he could feel the frail ribcage under his arms, expand and then slowly release. It was then he sat her on the edge of the counter.

"I-I can't make-make them stop." She said in hitching notes, smearing her tears with the back of her hands. Only when she lowered her arms did Bruce smudge the tears with his thumb. "That's okay." But in truth he was still taken aback by the amount of self-control she was showing. Was Paige so afraid for the girl's heart that she taught her to try and keep herself from getting too worked up? Or was it something else?

"What's going to happen to me?" She asked between sniffs.

"You're going to stay with me."

"I can't go home?"

Bruce shook his head. "Afraid not. You have to stay with a family member, and the only one you have is your father."

"But I don't have one of those!" she protested. The words cut deeper than Bruce thought they would, but it was the choice he'd made, one he wished now he could have amended so much sooner than right now.

"Yes you do. He just hasn't been in your life like he probably should have been."

Delilah's blue eyes, his eyes, looked down at her bandages.

"Del…I'm your father."

The moment she looked back up at him, all he could see was Paige. She had his eyes, and unfortunately, his ears. But everything was her mother. The shape of her mouth, the small round nose, the color of her dark chestnut hair, and even the "I don't believe you" look she was giving him now, she had certainly gotten that from her mother.

"You can call me Bruce, if you don't want to call me…you know…. You just can't keep calling me 'Mr. Wayne.'"

"Okay, Mr. Wayne- I mean Bruce."

Baby steps. "Now then, you think you could let Alfred take a look at your stitches after breakfast?" When she nodded, he helped her into a chair at the island.

As Bruce left the kitchen, he stopped in the door threshold, simply watching the girl and Alfred. Maybe with some luck, she would manage to be more resilient than he had been. This wouldn't leave her unscathed, but maybe, just maybe…it wouldn't keep her from being the girl he saw right now.

But tragedy was not through with them just yet. Things would get so much worse before they could even begin to get better.


	4. Robin

My first months at Wayne Manor could only be described as tense. If it wasn't my night terrors keeping the house from sleeping at night, it was Bruce and Jason, who now seemed to be at odds with one another on a constant basis. Jason didn't seem to care for my presence much either. It took quite some time before I would finally figure out why. Too much time.

"There we go Miss."

I looked down at my hands as Alfred removed the last stitch. My wounds had healed quickly under his care, but it didn't stop them from leaving the scars behind. "Is Bruce home today?" I asked, flexing my fingers.

"He's already left for the office. We're only left with Master Jason's company I'm afraid."

"Oh, joy."

"Joy, indeed."

I twisted in my seat, looking out into the garden where Jason was crouched on the grass, his back to the kitchen.

"Would you like to request your father's presence at lunch?"

"I-I don't want to bug him." I said, sliding from the stool.

"Very well." He sighed.

Bruce and I had been tip toeing around each other. I think it bothered Alfred more than he would say. I took the chance to slip out to the garden. Jason peered over his shoulder at me, but looked back down the lawn.

"What'cha doing?"

I was immediately shushed. Unperturbed, snuck around him, noticing that there in the grass at a struggling form of a bird. I squatted to the ground beside Jason. Watching the bird awkwardly drag it's wing, it was apparent that something was wrong. Jason had his hand resting on the ground, bird seed piled in his palm, but the bird didn't seem at all interested.

"That mangy stray tom must have gotten a hold of it."

I reached over, and took a pinch of the seed out of Jason's hand, paying no mind to the death look he shot me.

Slithering onto my stomach, I stretched out on the damp grass, letting some of the seed fall on the ground around my hands. The little red breasted creature was unsure at first, but slowly it at its way around my fingers, and when there was nothing left, it cautiously walked into my palms, seeking what I had left.

"Now, how the hell did you do that? Do you know how long I've been out here?" I stifled a laugh as I carefully moved back to my knees. "Mom taught me. She was really good with birds." I offered, watching him stare at me with a tilted head. "I probably shouldn't be holding it though. Put your hands underneath mine."

He hesitated at first, but finally begrudged me. His hands were freezing. I let the robin trade hands, by letting my fingers slide slowly out from under it. I didn't want to make any quick movements; the creature was already terrified enough as it was. "Your mom was a nice lady."

That stunned me. "My mom? You met her?"

"She's been here a few times." He said, rising to his feet, the robin resting in his hands. I must have been making a face.

"What? They didn't tell you?"

I shook my head.

"At first I thought she was just one of Bruce's flings…but I guess not." He shrugged. "Anyway. She was nice to me. Like I said I only met her a few times." Something in his tone was telling me to drop it.

I clamored to my feet, scrambling to get the door to let him in, trying to banish the thoughts about my mother. Why didn't Bruce ever mention it? Or Alfred? "Alfred! Jason found a bird."

"Master Jason found what?" Alfred asked as he walked back into the room.

"A bird."

"A robin." He corrected me. Alfred looked a little miffed to see the bird sitting in Jason's hands. "I see." I could feel like there was something being unsaid here, but there are so many moments like these I never saw the meaning in until so much later. My life happens to be filled with so much irony.

"Think you could help it?"

"I'm not a veterinarian." He stated, but as he looked at us he sighed. "But I shall try."

With some work, Alfred had the bird's wing bandaged. "Nothing looked broken, so I'm sure it'll be ready to fly again no time."

When the sound of the front door reached my ears, I darted for the foyer. I think it was the first time I had ever grabbed Bruce by the hand. "Come see! Come see!" I jabbered, leading him to the kitchen. I don't think I even gave him enough time to get a word in. "Look what Jason found." Jason, who was now sitting on a stool, eyes on the bird and its new antique cage, snorted.

"Huh." Bruce shed off his coat, and set his briefcase down. "How did you manage that?"

"I didn't." Jason pointed at me. "She did. Pipsqueak's a bird whisperer or something."

"Hey!" I saw fit to spit my tongue out at him. "But he _found_ it."

"Yeah, yeah." He started to walk for the door when I cut into his path.

"Forgetting something?"

"What?" He looked over his shoulder. "The bird?"

"Yeah."

"You keep it."

I shook my head. When he stepped to the right so did I. He jived left, I followed. It was definitely pissing him off. "You found it. You should let it go when it's ready." I can't describe what flickered across his face before it twisted into exasperation. He turned, and picked up the cage.

"Happy now?"

"Yup." I then moved out of his way, letting him and the bird hightail it out of the kitchen.

I felt Bruce's hands give my shoulders a squeeze. "A bird whisperer or something…"

In the few weeks that passed, our small feathered friend grew stronger. Jason even started allowing me into his room, but only for a few minutes at a time. After that he'd swiftly kick me out.

"Hey."

I looked up from the feeder, prepared to make a quick exit. "I need you to take care of the feathered thing for a few days." Easing myself to the floor by the cage, I waited for him to elaborate. "Going out of town with Bruce for a few days."

"Can I go?"

"No."

Around that time I was starting to see a pattern. Jason and Bruce were gone quite a bit. Though they never really divulged to me where it was they went, one thing was always a constant, I was never allowed to go with them.

"Who's going to take care of the bird?"

I gave up. "Okay…okay." But when he grabbed his bag and started for the door, I followed. "Alfred said he should be ready to let go soon. So maybe when you get back-"

"Yeah Kid, when I get back."

Alfred caught me at the bottom of the stairs, by putting an arm around my shoulder.

"Keep Alfred company for me." Bruce told me.

"Yes, Sir." With that he patted my cheek, and left.

"Don't forget about the bird, Pipsqueak."

I never did. Even when Jason never came back.

* * *

Sitting at the piano, Delilah piddled with the keys, watching the black suits and skirts mill about the house once again. There weren't many people this time; though there weren't many people for the first wake she had witnessed either. Bruce had returned but he certainly wasn't the same man.

"Hey, Kiddo."

Dick slipped onto the bench beside her. "How are you holding up?"

Del let her fingers slip off the keys, and smoothed the black material of her dress with her hands. "I'm okay." She murmured, watching Bruce and a man named "Clark" exchange words.

"Worried about him, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Me too."

"He's been acting weird." If weird meant not leaving the house for days, throwing things and yelling at the top of his lungs, then yes, it was weird. Not that he said anything to her. Come to think of it, it was almost as if he was avoiding her.

"I know." He said, giving her a squeeze. "He's just really sad." That was a serious understatement. Laying her fingers over the keys, she mimicked the hands of a pianist. "Alfred's been giving you piano lessons hasn't he?" Dick asked, watching the girls fingers move in the air. "Yeah…"

"He tried that on me once. It didn't work out." He bumped her shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on him, if you will."

"Okay."

"What's that sitting by your foot?" Del's fingers stilled as she reached down to pick up the small black iron cage, revealing the wide eyed robin inside. "Jason found it right before they left…I was kind of hoping he'd be ready to fly by the time they got back." She shrugged. But they didn't come back. Not really.

"I'm sure he will, in his own time." With that Dick slipped from the bench, giving the girl's cheek a pinch, he wandered back into the crowd. However small it might have been.

Del stopped counting the minutes that she sat there. It was easier to tell the passage of time by how the people would leave. Soon, the house was void of quiet whispering that seemed to accompany these functions. The girl's fingers danced on the keys, emitting a trio of notes from the piano. The robin chirped. "Alfred!"

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

"I'll be going. "

Hearing him speak, Del rushed from the bench. The sound of her shoes, hitting the floor echoed through the empty halls as she ran. "Bruce. Wait!" But Alfred was the only one to be found. How did he keep doing that? How did he keep disappearing so quickly? "Everything alright, Miss?"

Letting her shoulders slump and her breath free, the girl simply nodded. "I just wanted to talk to him, but I guess it can wait." She amended, missing the look that passed across the old butler's face as she turned and went back from where she came. How many times had he seen that look of disappointment on Bruce's face as a child?

Returning to the piano, Del, fiddled with the keys, letting the notes echo throughout the room. As she got ready sit back down, she realized that the base of the grandfather clock had sprung open. The piano was quickly abandoned.

Pulling the hidden door open just a little further, she found nothing but stone stairs leading down into the earth. An old basement maybe? At the piano the robin chirped. Delilah quickly went back for her feathered friend before quietly closing the door behind her.

The walls felt rough and weathered beneath her hand, stranger still with the new scars. The robin was eerily quiet as if it too were trying to hone in on the soft squeaks and chatter she could hear below them. Delilah followed the stairs down, the moment the stairs ended, the girl could feel metal beneath her feet. Suddenly light flooded the darkness, revealing to her an entirely different world.

Computers. Cars. Motorcycles. Weapons. Costumes. Del looked up, watching the small dark bodies above her head. Bats. Thousands of them. Setting the bird cage down by the largest computer she spotted, she immediately moved to the platform, painfully aware how her footsteps echoed throughout the entire cavern. It was almost as if she were trespassing on sacred ground. She walked carefully, eyeing the bat suits. Who knew he had gone through so many? Batgirl. And of course…Robin.

It was nearly four in the morning when Bruce finally returned to the bat cave. But it did not slip his mind that someone else had been there first. It wasn't unusual for Alfred to wait up for him, Delilah was another story. He did not expect to find his small daughter, asleep at his computer, using her arms as pillows. Looking up at the screen he realized she had managed to find her mother's file, but hadn't been able to dig into it very deeply, or had only opted to go through the photos he had of her.

Reaching over her, he backed out of the file, watching as Paige's face disappeared into the screen. From the cage by the chair, the robin twitched. Simply blinking it's small round eyes at him. He had crouched down beside the chair just as Delilah lifted her head. For a long moment, neither said a word. He should have scolded her, but when her small hands reached up, to push the cowl from his face, any words he had planned to say faltered before they could make it from his lips.

"Jason was robin, wasn't he?"

Bruce simply nodded, not expecting the girl to put her arms around his neck.

Below them, the robin chirped, rivaling the chattering bats above their heads. "The robin's bandage came off a little while ago." She said releasing him from her hug and reaching down to show him the cage. "Jason was supposed to let it go…but-"

"I'll help you."

"Thanks, Dad."

* * *

**A/N **Prepare yourself. Damian is appearing in chapter 5. Mayhem, murder, hell, it's just all out chaos.


	5. Mistaken

**A/N- It's a little later than normal, but it's uh...a lot longer than normal too. It's so long that it made a liar out of me. Damian hasn't made it in just yet. His mother sure did though. It's working that way, I swear. And yes! Drake will be present in the story, however, I'm taking some liberty with the time lines, so he'll be showing up after Damian.**

* * *

In the years that followed, the naïve little thing that stole towels from the linen closet for makeshift capes began to realize that her hero was anything but invincible. Batman often came home beaten, battered and broken. This wasn't a game between good and evil. It was a war, a war that my father often chose to fight alone.

"I'll be eleven soon."

Dad looked up from his cut, but Alfred only held out his hand for the anesthetic that I was holding; he didn't even bother to look up. He knew. I think he was holding his breath.

"Eleven already?" Dad tilted his head back, staring at the bats as they conspired above our heads.

"Wasn't Dick Ten?"

"_Del_..."

"_Dad_." At that I had his eyes on me. Stern…and exhausted.

"We've discussed this."

"No. You _told_ me. We didn't _discuss_ anything." I snipped, aware that Alfred was bristling between us.

"Dick said-"

"I don't care what Dick said. I'm telling you no!"

I slid off the stool, letting it roll back under the table beside me. "You _need _help." I protested, taking advantage of the small silence that worked its way between us. Dad hung his head back, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"You're not ready."

"At this pace, I won't ever be."

"There you are, Sir."

At that Dad swung out of the chair. "Thank you, Alfred." When he finally faced me, I crossed my arms in front of me.

"This isn't some game, Delilah."

I then said something I know I shouldn't have. "When are you going to see that I'm _not_ Jason?" It had been years since Jason's death, and yet for Dad it was still as raw as it was the day it happened. Batman never took on another Robin. It changed us. Dad always kept me close and somehow I always felt so far away.

"I made a promise to your mother, and I'm going to keep it!" He snapped, closing the distance between us. "The answer is no!"

"But-"

"You _do_ have limitations; you're going to have to come to terms with them."

I was on the losing side of this from the minute it began. Most people who have the same heart defects as I do, tend to lead normal, healthy—active lives. But let's face it…for me normal went out the window. Dizzy spells, shortness of breath, high blood pressure, I've even fainted a time or two. But let's not take the chance of sudden heart attack off the table. I think those things were always circling Dad's mind.

"Says who?"

Dad paused, letting my short breathes fill our silence. Even amongst the bat chatter, they seemed so loud. "You're just afraid."

"Del, you can't even catch your breath _right now_." Damn it. My health always sought to make his point.

"I can control it!" I cried, forcing myself to take a deeper breath, but it was already too late.

"Not to break in, but I suspect the guests should be arriving shortly."

With that he pushed me to the stairs. "This _discussion_ is over."

I never brought it up again.

* * *

My father did his damndest to shield me from the world. After all, his world was different than the one I knew with my mother. Once I waded into it, there would be no going back to a normal life. When the tabloids began to leak pictures of me, Dad had no choice but to introduce me into society.

Blackmail. Publicity Stunt. Black Market Baby. Child of the street. Lovechild. Only the last one was close, but they surmised that my mother must have been a young socialite, who was too ashamed to admit she had been caught in the web of the billionaire playboy.

Most of the employees at Wayne Enterprises, assumed that Dad had simply adopted me, seeing as my mother worked so closely with him and there was nowhere else for me to go. After all, it wasn't the first time Wayne had opened his home to a wayward child. Everyone had their own conspiracy theories.

"What are you doing?"

Dad's whisper pulled me from my crouch. "Spying."

"Obviously." He murmured, looking down into the crowd that had gathered just beyond the reach of the stairs. It was a sea of elegant clothing, jewelry and cigars. At times the sound of their voices was broken by a vivacious laugh or smug chuckle.

I dug my fingers into the banister to keep myself from picking off the nail polish. Dad's eyes flicked to my hands.

"Nervous?" Of course he knew my tells. Batman noticed _everything_.

"Yeah…"

"Me too."

"Feeling rusty, huh?" Dad was spending so much time in the bat suit, a bowtie was starting to feel foreign to him. All I can say to that is, thank God for Alfred. When he offered a nod and his hand, I was relived. At least I wasn't in this alone…and neither was he.

"So what do we do?"

"Divide and conquer."

Dad patted my hand when I hesitated. "Just smile and kill them with kindness."

"Now you sound like Mom."

Dad's wide shoulders shrugged beneath his tux. "It works."

I remember wanting so badly to prove to the world that I existed, but at that moment, standing at the top of the stairs amongst a battle of camera flashes and the flood of questions, I suddenly wanted it all to go away. "Smile. It's okay."

Dad's whisper barley reached my ear over the din of chatter and clicking. I was holding his hand tighter and tighter with every step we took, but I did as he said and smiled. It's a strange thing, forcing yourself to smile when you're descending into chaos.

"Bruce! Who is this charming little creature you've been hiding?"

"Is she adopted?"

"Look at those eyes you, Dope."

"How old are you, Sweetheart?"

"Where's her mother?"

With all the small flashes, and the faces peering in, I didn't know where to look or what to do. But when Dad held his hand up, the waves of questions quieted, leaving camera clicks in their wake.

"One at a time please. You guys know how bad I am at remembering questions." And just like that Dad was falling right back into that person he had forgotten, he had the room chuckling at his expense. It was right where he wanted them.

"This is Delilah."

I waved, and let my hand fall to my side.

"She's ten."

"Ten and a half." I corrected him, taking the moment to look up at him.

"Excuse me, ten and a _half_."

"Someone's gotta keep you on your toes." The room was laughing again.

"Bruce! Why all the secrecy?" Dad looked at the reporter, his smile fell from his face. "We've been experiencing some health issues, so it was thought best to keep the excitement down to a minimum."

"This must put a damper on your usual activities."

I was ten, but I wasn't dumb. My dad was something of a playboy, or so he portrayed himself that way. When I fell into his life he finally had a decent excuse not to be plastered on Gotham Noir. Dad was more discreet with that part of his life than the public gave him credit for.

"It's a change, for the better I think."

"So serious! Who knew you had that kind of side. Looks like Gotham's most eligible bachelor is now a package deal."

I watched as a dark haired reporter bent down, letting her blue eyes meet mine. "So Miss Delilah. We know what your dad here does for fun, but what do you like to do?"

I felt Dad's eyes on me, his fingers squeezed gently around my hand. _It's okay_. I squeezed back. "I read quite a bit."

"Bookworm." Dad teased.

"Proud of it." I said giving him the elbow. "But I like playing the piano. And I have gymnastics classes on my good days."

The reporter smiled. "I saw a piano in here, do you think you could play something for us?" When Dad nodded to me, I let my fingers slide from his. "Sure." Slipping through the crowd of curious onlookers, I found Alfred at the piano; he had already pulled the bench back for me.

I took a deep breath, trying to ignore that so many people were watching me. It occurred to me then, that this would be normal for the daughter of Bruce Wayne.

"I hope no one will mind if I play something a bit more modern than classical music."

I closed my eyes and set my fingers on the keys, glad they felt familiar to the pads of my fingertips. And so I played, letting the notes out gently as I kept time in my head.

I had never sung in front of anyone, except Alfred. But once the words from a favorite song began to tumble out, there was no turning back, despite how vulnerable I felt. But sitting there, gently swaying into the rhythm as I played, I realized how singing about a human- one who bleeds when they fall but can still manage to hold the weight of the world – it made me think of Dad. I carried my crescendos, stayed on key and kept my time. When the last note faded from the room, it erupted. As I stood to take my bow, shooting my stunned father the biggest grin I could muster.

As I made my way from the piano, I nodded and accepted the praise as graciously as I could, trying not to flinch when random people would pat me on the back or squeeze my shoulder.

"First birds. Now you sing. Pipsqueak, I think you're turning into Snow White."

_Jason_. I froze, when I turned, there wasn't a familiar face around. But there in the distance a dark haired head seemed to be moving through the crowd. When Dad touched my shoulder, I know I jumped and he definitely felt it. "What's wrong?" He whispered. I tried to smile, tried to pretend that he was whispering something encouraging.

"A little overwhelmed."

"Step into the parlor, and take a second." With that he pressed his lips to my temple and worked his way back into the throng. I made my way to the parlor in a bit of a haze. Only four other people knew about the robin. Dad. Alfred. Jason. Dick. Dick was out on patrol and Jason was dead… right? I watched them lower the casket into the ground myself. Or Dick was here somewhere and he was screwing with me.

I slid into darkness of the parlor, and leaned myself against the first available wall I could claim. For a moment I just closed my eyes and listened to the voices carry throughout the house.

"Chaos out there isn't it?"

I almost mistook the woman for my mother. Her hair was a dark auburn like my mother's. In the faint light that made it through the window I could tell her eyes were green too. But the voice was wrong and so was the shape of her body.

"You are Delilah." She said, bring herself to stand, letting her long elegant gown fall gently as she rose.

"Delilah means delicate. Weak."

I opened my mouth to protest, but she tilted her head at me. "But strange enough for you, variants of your name also means night. In some languages your name would fit a femme fatale." Her smile spread across her face. But it wasn't the kind of smile that made me feel comfortable.

"I believe your mother picked your name very well. She must have known your father's secret."

I didn't balk, even though I wanted to. I simply raised my chin at her.

"You know an awful lot about my name, but you never told me yours." My words came out evenly to my relief. But the nameless woman laughed at me. It was deep melodic kind of sound. "A bold little flower, aren't you?"

"I am Talia." She said, moving too far into my personal space.

I felt her fingernails dig into my chin, when she lifted it. "You have my Beloved's eyes."

I moved to smack her hand away, but she dropped it faster than I could move. "The rumors are true I see." With that she turned away from me.

"In that case, I have left you a gift. Perhaps one day you will be able to use it." At that moment I wasn't processing her words; I was too busy thinking about how I would exit the room.

"Delilah and Damian. A pity I never met your mother." She said, looking down at her nails, but her eyes fell back to me.

"But for you, perhaps that was for the best. Do tell my Beloved that I said hello." I turned to hear the door opening, thankful that the light was spilling across the darkness.

"You alright?"

Dad. I turned back, and there was nothing, just an open window. I took another breath and nodded. "Yeah, just trying to get some air."

When the house finally quieted, Dad eased himself on the steps beside me. "Well, we survived."

I was pulling the pearls out of my hair. "Dad…who is Talia?" I looked down at the pearl pile I had made and when I looked up, Dad had his 'Bat face' going.

"Where did you hear that name?" he asked. I was pulling the last pearl from my hair, when he grabbed my arm. "Delilah. Where?"

"Here. She was here. When I went to the parlor, she was there."

"What did she say to you?"

I shrugged. "She talked about the meaning of my name, and that Mom must have known your secret." Dad was rubbing his face with his hands. "And tell my Beloved I said hello" I mimicked.

"I wanted to heave on her overpriced shoes."

"She's over the top." He muttered.

"Old fling gone wrong?" I asked

"You could say that."

"Dad. You need to start teaching me _something_."

"Del…not again. Not tonight."

I shook my head. "No. It's not about _that_. She got too close to me. I don't want anyone getting that close to me again."

At this Dad just looked at me, for a long moment he didn't say anything, he just slid his arm around me.

"Now that we can work on."

I didn't tell him about the sword I found on my bed, nor did I tell him about my Jason encounter. I just didn't know how. Instead I had him explain to me just who Talia was.

* * *

Like most mornings, Del was up before the light began to break. The asphalt was waiting in its usual place, stretched out and winding way through the large homes that dotted the coastal road. It was just a simple 3 mile round trip run. It was the kind of morning that made the breath leave the body in wispy clouds, but Del was damp with sweat. Beside her, Jax, the Doberman panted, his tags jingling together as he loped. For once it was quiet. There hadn't been a single reporter or squirrel all morning.

Dick was sprawled on the porch steps as Delilah began to walk the driveway. She let Jax go, who promptly went to stick a cold nose in his face. "Zesti cola? Can't you drink coffee or tea like normal people?" As soon as he had Jax in a whimpering pile of 'pet me' he looked up.

"What's this normal you speak of?" He asked, rubbing dog's belly as he rose from the stairs. But Dick's lopsided smile faltered, as Del, bent down and put her hands on her knees.

"Feeling dizzy?" When she nodded, he gave her an arm to steady herself on. "Pushed yourself a little too hard this morning, huh?"

When the world was still again, she let him go. "It's no big deal."

"Right…"

"It's already gone." She insisted, popping up the stairs, Jax immediately in her wake. "So you're coming to the next meet, right?"

"Only if the hot moms are there."

"You're so gross."

Delilah wasn't sure what she would do without Dick. He was her bit of normal in a not-so-normal life. When she was six, he got her started in gymnastics, sneaking her to classes himself. Though it wouldn't be stretching to the truth to say he liked the attention he got. After all, he was the only young man sitting in the parents section.

When she needed someone to talk to when her dad was being a royal jerk, she went to Dick. When she just needed to sit around and eat Chinese and watch terrible movies…Dick was the guy.

"So…"

"I hate it when you start out your sentences like that."

"Why?"

"Because it means you have a really stupid idea, and you're going to try palm it off on me." He held up his hand as they crossed into the foyer. "But go ahead."

"Apparently, you can get your motorcycle license at fourteen." Delilah started, her lips breaking into a smile when he began to catch on to her master plan.

"Oh no."

"I've never ridden one."

"No, no. I know where this is going. No. No way."

Del cut in front of him, keeping herself moving backwards so he wouldn't plow her over to get away.

"Oh, come on. What about a dirt bike? Just a little 125? That's harmless."

"If I teach you how to ride something that leads to you having the ability to take off on one of your dad's motorcycles…he would kill me." Of course he would know about stealing Bruce's motorcycles. He did it himself how many times?

"Who else am I going to ask? You're the closest thing to a brother that I've got." Del made her best 'I'm begging you' face.

"Don't make that face."

"C'mon. Please? Please? Please?"

Dick's shoulders slumped. "You are nothing but trouble." He grumbled.

Delilah took that as a yes, and skipped the rest of the way into the kitchen.

"Morning, Alfred." The old man, pushed her pills toward her. "Good Morning, Miss Wayne, Master Dick."

Delilah made short work of the pills. "Something smells good." But of course, bacon always did. Working her way into the kitchen, she found the tea pot. "You'll drink some tea with me won't you?" She asked, rifling through the cabinet for the tea canister, then a cup.

"Of course, that would be lovely."

"Where's Dad?"

"Still getting dressed."

Dick found the remote to the TV in the kitchen and plopped himself in a chair.

"The bizarre deaths that were once alleged to be linked to Zesti Cola, have begun to resurface. It's been eleven years since the company faced this kind of scrutiny."

The cup in Delilah's hands fell to the ground, scattering shards of porcelain across the kitchen floor. Her eyes didn't leave the TV.

"_DAD!" _

Delilah quickly turned snatching the bottle of cola from Dick. His lips were still opening and closing like a fish in shock when Bruce wandered into the kitchen, his tie still hanging limp around his neck. "What?"

Delilah pointed at the TV as she rinsed the sink

"That was a perfectly good bottle, you crazy person."

"Dick. Do yourself a favor; don't drink Zesti Cola for a while."

"It's happening again…" Delilah shook her head, bending down to help Alfred clean up the broken cup. "Alfred, I'm sorry I-"

"It's quite all right. Finish getting ready for school, breakfast will be ready when you're done."

Dick turned the TV off and shook his head. "Care to explain?" he asked, when Del finally vacated the room. Bruce remembered his tie and set about making it right. "Paige had spotted something strange going on with our Santa Prisca accounts."

"Santa Prisca? Isn't that where Zesti Cola originates?"

"Zesti Cola is made there, and sent here to be bottled." Bruce amended. "Paige bled out like all of the other cases that allege Zesti Cola was the cause."

"Wasn't she shot to death?"

The man paused, closed his eyes and took a breath. "I think they shot her just to torture her." He shook his head. "It's not what killed her."

"A senseless thing." Alfred said, taking the teapot off the burner as it screeched. "Miss Larson was a good woman."

"Yes, yes she was." Bruce turned to leave the kitchen. "I'm going to check on Del, and then I'm off. I'm sure the office will be a mess." Spying a plate on the counter, he snagged the bacon.

"It always is on a Monday, Sir."

Dick leaned on his elbows, when he was sure Bruce was out of ear shot, he spoke.

"He really liked her didn't he?"

Alfred scoffed. "I dare say Master Bruce was in love with her. I'm afraid he didn't realize how much he cared for her until she was gone."

"Dad. Don't forget I have talent show tryouts tonight." Bruce paused on the stairs. "And how late will that be?"

"Should be done by 8 p.m. I'll keep Alfred posted."

Bruce nodded. "Good luck." He called, trying to make his way out the door before anything else popped up. "No stops. Come straight home." His day was going to be full, and now, so was his evening.

Del plopped herself into the chair next to Dick, happy to see a plate full of food, and a fresh cup of tea.

"What's this business about a talent show?"

"School thing. I'm only doing it because Sam asked me to."

"Sam? Who's this Sam? When do we meet him?"

"Sam is a girl, you dork. She's a friend from school."

Delilah looked down at her plate and frowned.

"Alfred?"

"Yes?"

"Batman stole my bacon again."

* * *

Delilah learned quickly that with a last name like hers, people were often intimidated. That didn't exclude her classmates. Sam all but spilled into her life. It was a simple mishap that ignited a friendship, and all it took was for Del to stop, bend down and help pick up the girl's books.

"Someone is going to trip on that." Delilah muttered, eyeing a piece that had fallen off of someone's prop. Beside her, Sam's number wrinkled as she moved. "Are smoke bombs too much?"

Del raised an eyebrow as she looked to the girl. "Smoke bombs? You _are _going all out for this aren't you?"

Sam's dark eyes seemed to twinkle, and it sure as hell wasn't in a good way. "All an illusionist does is put on a good show."

Sam was good with her illusions. But Sam had a mischievous streak a mile wide. It's wasn't something people would expect from the quiet, shy, brainy, Samantha Cleary. But they also didn't know that she had the kind of mouth could make a sailor blush. Her filter just operated a lot better than Delilah's.

"Are you just after setting off the fire alarms?"

The girl snorted. "Maybe."

"You make your own smoke bombs?" Del asked, resting her head against the wall.

"Yeah, why?"

"Think you could make me a batch?" Sure, Del could lift a few from her Dad, but he noticed everything. He'd definitely notice if some of his own stock was missing. Sam's face lit up. "Just what are _you_ plotting?"

At that moment Pike Pitman, the captain of the lacrosse team stumbled. Unable to catch himself in time, he met the floor face first.

"Told you someone would trip on that."

Red faced, he righted himself, his eyes landing directly on them. "You put this here?"

"Why would I do that?" Delilah asked, crossing her arms in front of her as she slid all the way to the floor. She watched as the principal popped her head out of the office. "Mr. Pitman, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, I think Wayne and Cleary are leaving things in the hall though." He said, dabbing the blood off his face. Hmm. He did nail the floor pretty hard. Mrs. Bruner's eyes fell on the girls.

"Now why would I do that? I don't even have props."

"You just want to make me look stupid." He sneered. "Besides, Cleary has props. "

Delilah smirked. "Pitman, you don't need my help to look stupid. I think you've got it handled."

"Miss Wayne!"

Delilah covered her mouth. "Sorry, Mrs. Bruner."

"Miss Cleary, please go put your props in your home room until your number is called."

Del worked to her feet, helping Sam gather her things.

"See you losers later." Pike quipped, as soon as Bruner went back in her office.

"We're not the ones who met the floor with our faces."

Delilah never looked back. She simply held her hand up for a high-five.

"He's still pissed off that you turned him down for the formal." Sam noted, squeezing her way into the empty classroom.

"Ya think? It wasn't my fault that he asked me in front of the entire school."

"Wayne-Badger don't care. Wayne-Badger don't give a shit."

Sam always made hard not to laugh.

* * *

For a while Del listened to the numbers as they were called, watching kids slip into the gym.

"Only three to go." Sam cheered.

"Lucky you. I'm near the bottom of the list." In other words, she was going to be here a while. Sam worked herself away from the wall. "Be right back. Gotta get my stuff." But when Sam returned, her face was pale, and her hands were empty.

"Number 46!"

Delilah made her way to her instantly. "So the loser, apparently got a hold of my props." She grumbled.

"Can you fix them?"

"Yeah but I don't have enough time."

The girl sighed when Delilah began to unclasp her number from her leotard. "What are you doing?"

"Buying you time. I'm near the bottom of the list remember? Give me your number."

"You sure?" Sam's fingers hesitated, but Del was already shoving her number at her.

"No sweat. I'm just doing a little floor routine."

"47"

Samantha's face relaxed, allowing a little color to creep back in. Relief. "You are _awesome_."

"No. I'm just a nerd. And we nerds need to stick together." She said, unsnapping her track pants, and trying to step out of her sneakers all at once. She piled them against the wall with Sam's things.

"Number 48 is a scratch. Number 49!"

"Go get 'em Wayne-Badger."

* * *

By the time Alfred arrived, the hall was dim. The throngs of kids that milled about before had dropped to a mere handful. Delilah was sitting with her legs crossed on the floor, next to a couple backpacks.

"Have I missed it?" Alfred asked, settling along the wall beside her.

"Yeah. Sorry Alfred. I ended up swapping numbers with Sam. Some idiot broke her props just before her act. We swapped numbers so she had time to fix them. I did my routine early. So Sam is in there now."

"Master Bruce would be glad for you if you made it. But I'm sure he'd be proud of what you've done. I know I am."

Delilah opened her mouth just as a scream cut through the quiet hall. Smoke began to billow from under the double doors sending the fire alarm in a whaling panic. Delilah shook her head. "She set off the fire alarm. I knew that's what she was after."

But as the door opened and Samantha's body wobbled from the plume, the knowing smile on Delilah's face fell. The hall was filled with screams as Delilah jumped to her feet. "Something-Somethings.." Blood. It was running from Samantha's eyes and with every sound she tried to make, more would just seep from her mouth.

"Sam!"

Alfred, kept the girl from collapsing to the floor while Delilah called 911.

_I gave her my number. They thought she was me._ The though brought Del to her knees.


	6. Little Secrets

**A/N: Damian finally made it in, I'm just going to admit that it's not much, but it does place him in the same house as his sister. Everything has it's own layer and time. As for how old the characters are, Dick is 29. Del is currently 15. (This changes as you've noticed.) In my head Damian is 10. Tim is 15. And Jason...is tricky. He was 14 when he died. (I know, much older in the comics. Again, liberties.) And roughly about 25 when he returns but the lazurus pit has made him physically and yes mentally younger. **

**As for Damian and Delilah, I think you'll get a feel for how they regard each other in the next chapter for sure.  
**

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

An opaque reflection of myself stared back at me from the window, a face I wasn't sure I recognized. It certainly didn't feel like me. My hand reached up and gently touched the pearls around my neck. She did the same, her terrified face looking back at me wordlessly.

Just outside the car, journalists grouped in droves, tagging the car with their cameras and questions. From here their words were garbled. They were only out for a good story. What did they care? I felt Dad's hand touch mine, forcing me to finally break away from the chaos just outside.

"I have to." The words left me so even, so determined that I was almost afraid that I wasn't the one that said them. I looked up, feeling something inside me shudder as we passed through the gates of Arkham Asylum. The closer we got, the larger the eerie gray building became, blending into the fog that rolled off the water from the bay.

"Is the car shaking?"

"No, Sweetheart, it's you."

Ten years before that moment, two men ripped my mother from my life without remorse or explanation. And now one of them was up for parole. Nick St. James. Until this point I never really put the name with the face that tortured my thoughts. I just knew he was the man who shot my mother. Whoever he was connected with had enough cash to keep him from going to a prison. He was sent to Arkham for his so called "mental illness." A mental illness he has come to control. I called bullshit. I was definitely going to call his bluff that day.

I didn't answer. Dad's mouth was moving, but I was shoving the door of the car open and sliding out of the car before I could let him finish. If I didn't force myself out of the car right then and there, I might never have found the strength. I had to do this. My heels sank into the spongy earth, bringing a curse to my mouth, but I bit my lip to keep it from sliding out. The mob swarmed.

"Do you think St. James could be paroled?"

"Not if I have any say in it." The words were coming out all on their own. I could hear Dad sliding out of the car. Knowing he was right behind me, I marched up the stairs, splitting the paparazzi in two, trying to pay no mind to the flicker of flash bulbs.

The lobby was empty, and as sterile as a hospital. Of course most hospitals didn't come with large glass partitions, heavy bolted doors, or guards who could have passed as S.W.A.T. My eyes immediately fell to a group in suits, including a face I knew. Lois Lane smiled at me from the corner of her mouth.

"You grip that folder any tighter, you might rip it in half." She whispered, bringing my eyes down to my white knuckles. "Mind if I ask what that is?" I know this was Dad's way of controlling how the media was going to spin this. "You'll see." My words were soft, barely audible. It was nothing I would ever want to see printed. I wasn't about to let her touch it.

"This way, Miss Wayne." I followed the gentlemen through the iron doors, trying not to let the buzzing sound it made ring in my ears. "I'm sorry but with the renovations, We'll have to cut through the medical ward." When I simply stared at Jerimiah Arkham, he continued. "We'll have an escort of course. Not to worry, the ward is set up differently than you might think."

"What are the renovations for?" Dad would want to be updating his schematics for the place of course. Arkham's eyes widened ever so slightly before he pushed his round rim glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "We're running out of room." He said simply, turning away to lead us to more heavy doors. "With the Batman bringing so many people in… We have to add more room to shelter the patients while we rehabilitate them."

"So you want to release them?" I asked, stepping through the threshold, not even giving the medical staff a second glance. My eyes were too busy scanning the long corridor of cells. Cells that were anything but unoccupied. I kept my eyes on Dr. Arkham's back, trying my damndest to ignore the noise. If it wasn't screaming that curdled my blood, it was the cat calls.

Jerimiah peered behind his shoulder at me. "Only some of them." He amended. I felt my skin crawl as a maniacal laugh pierced the din of the noise. Dad didn't even falter. "Like St. James?"

I felt my father flick me on the shoulder. A subtle reminder to watch what I said, but Dr. Arkham sighed, as he lead us into the next lobby, freeing us of the noise. "In my opinion, he doesn't belong here."

"He doesn't belong out there either." His lips tightened, but he said nothing as he paused a set of oak doors. "That, Miss Wayne, is not for either of us to decide." He said at last, opening the doors for me.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

A part of me wanted to say yes. But somehow my head was shaking. "No." I answered. "He can't get to me now." Dad's hand was warm on my cheek, his mouth opened, but then whatever words he had planned, never came out. He just nodded. "I'll be right here, then." He managed.

My heels we're loud on the hardwood floor. The three individuals at the table, all looked at me. St. James didn't budge, he didn't even turn to look at me I just stared at his back.

"Miss Wayne, you have something to say?"

His spine went rigid. The chains rattled and scuffed on the floor as he turned to look at me. My breath caught in my lungs. Age had not been too kind, it had left deep grooves in his face. In the last 10 years his blond hair had dulled. I reminded myself that I was the one who gave him the reason to wear that eye patch.

"I'm so sorry, Delilah. Please forgive me."

"I'm not Jesus; I don't have to forgive you." The words flew out of my mouth as I circled around to face him. "And don't call me by name, like you know me." The adults in the room seemed a tad surprised. But to be honest, I was a little surprised by it too.

"You're right. You're right. I've wronged you, I know. But I'm a changed man! I don't hear the voices anymore."

He looked up at me, pleading. "We've hurt one another, the cycle has to stop somewhere." He added, lifting his hands to remove the eye patch, revealing the scared lump of flesh where his eye had once been. I don't think I even flinched.

"Wronged me…you've wronged me…." I opened the folder, sliding one photo at a time onto the table in front of him. I didn't want to look down; I didn't want to see my mother bleeding out on the living room floor. I saw that enough when I slept. "Wronged me? You ripped my world apart!" Dad always said, think like the enemy. I knew one thing. The man in front of me was a sadist. His eyes flickered down at the photos.

"You look so much like her." I felt something inside me squirm when the corner of his mouth up turned and he picked up one of the pictures.

"Tell me, _Nick_, what are you really sorry for?"

He set the photo down and looked at me. "I took your mother from you."

I started to take the photos back up. "You're sorry that you took my mother from me." I could see Lois watching me as she leaned against the wall by the door. "But you're not sorry that you killed her." I amended, picking up the photos at a faster pace.

"No. Wait!" He grasped for the pictures but I yanked them away and took a step back.

"You enjoyed killing her, didn't you?" When he reached for me the guards moved closer. "Didn't you!?"

"Yes. Yes! You little bitch! Now give them back!" When he pushed the table over I jumped back, and was quickly pushed out of the way when guards went to restrain him. His body went slack as realization began to sink in. "You tricked me!" He screamed, pulling against the guards.

"Ever come at me again, I'll take the other eye." I whispered to him. "You took my mother from me. I'm going to take your freedom from you."

I caught Lois by the door, her eyes were wide as saucers. "I'll see you next time, _Nick_." He was still screaming when we left the room, leaving a horrified parole board on their feet. Dad furrowed his brow as I made my way to his side. Appearently the large doors didn't keep the noise from slipping out. "I don't think He'll be leaving here, Dr. Arkham." I felt Dad's arm around my shoulder, as he squeezed me to his side.

"You alright?"

"Yeah. I'm _relieved_."

Dr. Arkham simply sniffed. "This will be a major setback in his rehabilitation program."

"Some people, Doctor, you just can't rehabilitate. No matter how hard you try."

He had nothing to say to that, even as we began to trail back through the medical ward. Like before I kept my eyes on the good doctor's back, trying to pay no mind to the noise of the inmates.

"I remember those!"

I felt my fingers curl around the pearls on my neck, as I came eye to eye with the Joker himself. "Though the last time I saw them, they were bouncing up and down the sidewalk. Hmm..I think I liked them that red sort of color." I felt Dad stiffen. I on the other hand simply reacted. I suppose the hands of an adult wouldn't fit through the bars that separated us. The balled fist of a fourteen year old, however, is another matter. According to Dick, I had some bony knuckles. I would have to take his word for it, or otherwise ask the Joker. Dad didn't say two words. He just handed me a handkerchief so I could wipe the blood off my hand. "I could say the same about your face." _That's for Dad. That's for Jason._ He thought I was funny I suppose, since his laughter followed us the rest of the way through the ward.

"How did you get St. James to snap?" Dad asked me later. The pearls felt heavy and warm in my hands. "You always told me to think like the enemy." I said, laying them gently back in their box. I can't imagine what it must have been like for Dad to have to have to collect each pearl off the sidewalk.

When I looked up, I realized he was waiting on an explanation. "St. James is a sadist." I said softly, setting the box on his desk. "I knew that he'd..." My teeth dug into my lip as I tried to choose my words. "That if he saw the pictures of mom…" He'd enjoy it so much he wouldn't have wanted it to stop. Dad rose from his chair, when my eyes fell to my hands.

"I can't say I don't want that man to feel pain. _I do_. I want him to _suffer_ the way he made her suffer. I want him to die slowly, and know that he's dying. I want him to know there's not a God Damn thing he can do about it!" Dad's arms felt like vice grips around me. I don't even remember him coming around the desk. I just knew he was there. "It makes me just like… him."

It would not the first time I would have to face Nick St. James, or even Gregory Gillespie, the second man in the equation. It was however the first time I began to realize what I was made of, and just what kind of things I had buried in the darkest parts of my soul.

* * *

"Alfred. Prepare a room. It looks like we have a guest."

"I can't at the moment, Sir. But I shall when I return to the manor."

The street lights washed over the windshield of the bat-mobile, filling the cabin with flickers of light to pierce the darkness. The boy in the passenger seat, had his head tilted, watching the buildings rise and fall.

"Alfred? Where are you?"

"On the way home from Gotham Memorial, Sir."

The kick of the booster's forced the dark haired child to look toward the Dark Knight. "In a hurry now, Father?"

* * *

"This is smaller than I imagined."

Bruce didn't stop to offer the boy a response, as he stalked for the foyer. "ALFRED!"

The gray haired Pennyworth paused on the stairs, taken aback by the black haired boy that followed in Bruce's trail.

"Where?" it was the only question he gave, pulling the cowl away from his face as he marched up the stairs.

"The usual place, Sir."

At that Bruce finally paused. "Alfred this is Damian." He said at last, sliding a glance at the boy, trying to ignore the droll look he wore. "Where are the rest of the servants?"

"He's it. And he's not a servant."

Damian just stared, as if the idea miffed him somehow. But as Alfred looked at the boy, all he could see was a young Bruce Wayne. "Alfred will show you to your room."

For a moment they stood on the stairs, watching as Bruce paused at a code locked door. Alfred finally cleared his throat and started in the other direction. "This way, Master Damian."

"Pennyworth, what's beyond there?"

Hearing his name fall out of the boy's mouth the butler bristled, but recovered himself. "I suppose you'll learn that soon enough, but not tonight."

* * *

He could hear the sound of gloves smacking against a heavy bag. The second he poked his head into her small gym, Jax lifted his head and grumbled a greeting. Del, didn't so much as look his way. She already knew he was there. Her leotard was covered with blood.

Delilah's eyes burned with the threat of tears, forcing the girl to choke the sob down as she swung at the bag, causing it's chain to rattle when it swung back from the force of her blow. Blood. It was all she could smell. Sam's blood. The bag wasn't swaying anymore. She went to swing, when her father caught her glove. "Delilah."

The girl's chest heaved, sweat was beading down her brow and yet, her pale blue eyes weren't even looking at him. She simply sank to the mat. "Tell me what happened." He told her, crouching down before her.

Jax crawled on his stomach, inching his way across the mats until his was pressed against the girl's side. "It's my fault Dad. It's _my_ fault." She looked down at her leo and back at him, shaking her head. "It's not my blood." She croaked. "It's Sam's."

"It was just like Mom." The words left her louder than she anticipated, forcing the teenager to realize just how alarmed she really was. She mopped her face with her sleeve when he started to blur. He had no choice but to sit silently as she closed her eyes and stilled herself. No doubt counting to ten in her head. When she opened her eyes she forced herself to her feet. Once she ripped off her gloves, she immediately went for her backpack.

Bruce followed, looking over her shoulder as she began to scroll through pictures that she had taken with her phone. An arm with what appeared to be an injection site and a rancid looking rash. "They injected Sam with the same chemical that killed Mom." She said evenly, as she swiped through the catalog. "If it wasn't for Alfred…she would have died."

"And how do you know it's the same chemical?"

Delilah let him take the phone from her. "She came out of the gym bleeding from her eyes, ears, nose and mouth…she almost bled out right there in the hallway. I took those when I was allowed to see her."

Del went back to riffling through the bag, producing a small jar with a couple cotton swabs. "I swabbed the injection site, just before the paramedics arrived."

Bruce plucked the small jar from her hand, looking at it then back to her. "You did good, Delilah." But the girl shook her head. "_No_. I didn't do enough." She snapped, turning away from him. She wandered to the balance beam, digging her hands into it as if it would keep her rooted. "Her kidneys are trashed, and her liver…" Delilah shook her head. "She'll be on dialysis for the rest of her life if she doesn't find donors."

Watching his daughter hang her head, swallow her sobs and beat herself up, it was enough to make a father feel as if he had been kicked in the gut. She lifted her head when he finally approached, but her eyes were staring out the window. There was nothing but darkness on a calm sea. "It's my fault." She whispered. "I gave her my number, Dad. I had her number, she had mine. I was just trying to do the right thing." She continued her voice cracking. "She needed more time to work on her act. I was at the end of the list. We swapped." Her shoulders slumped forward. "She's the only friend I've got…and I almost got her killed."

"It's not something _you_ caused, Del."

"But it was meant for me!" She cried. And if it had been her, he would have been arranging a funeral for his daughter. "I've been racking my brain trying to figure out why. I thought maybe it was something to do with St. James and Gillespie, but St. James doesn't come up for parole for another few years, and Gillespie is still working on his appeal. And neither one of them strikes me as big enough, or bright enough to cause something so…gruesome. Let alone orchestrate it from prison."

"Someone else's pawns."

She slammed her hands on the beam. "I want to know who, I want to know why, and I want it to stop."

"I'll scan this into the computer."

"I already did it. The test is still running it won't be done until tomorrow. I scanned the photos too. I even wrote comparison notes from all the cases. I'd still be down there…but I just can't look at the pictures anymore." She said softly. "There's something we're missing." Delilah hoisted herself onto the beam and sat, her hands idly in her lap. "It probably has something to do with Mom doesn't it?"

She felt something inside her fall, when her father nodded. "It's possible."

Delilah's brows furrowed. "She was pretty open with you wasn't she? I mean you were awfully open with her." She said gesturing to his suit. Her father's lips twitched into a smirk. "Actually…she figured that out on her own."

"How?"

"That's a story for later." He said. "Right now there's something else you need to know."

At this Delilah raised a brow. "Oh? Spill it, Bats."

"I ran into Talia tonight. She had a boy with her, claims he's my son."

Uh oh. Delilah put her face into her palm. "Not Talia."

"He's here, Del."

At that she peeked through her fingers at him. "You serious?" she grumbled. When he nodded, she rolled her eyes. "And what do you think?"

"I'm not sure what I think right now. It's possible, but it could also be a ploy."

"Sounds like something Talia would pull. Hide a kid from you. Or throw one in just to screw with your head - or both." Delilah shook her head. "Why do you always fall for devious bitches?"

"_That_ I'm not discussing with you. And watch your mouth." With that he plopped a kiss on her forehead. "Sam is still alive, and she's safe. I'll have Dick keep an eye on her. We'll take another look at this tomorrow when the tests have finished."

"Yes, Sir."

She waited for him to make it to the door. "Dad?" Wayne paused. "Did you love her? My mother, I mean. Alfred seems to think you did."

Delilah watched her father's face soften. "Alfred's very intuitive." It was as close to a yes as she would get. Her parents were riddled with secrets it seemed. Some were small and innocent. Others, however, were just plain deadly.


	7. First Impressions

**A/N** _-_ Slightly late, but again, it's a long one! We've got a few things going on here with a new face popping in. I'm sure ya'll will figure it out. And YES. Damian and Delilah finally do meet one another.

* * *

Anybody can become angry - that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way - that is not within everybody's power and is not easy.

– Aristotle

Batman walked a very fine line between right and wrong. I'm not saying that temptation and anger hadn't ever tested him, that's something I know to be fact. But I also know that my father's moral compass and quick thinking always prevailed, despite the beckoning of the abyss that so many fell prey to. He had never fallen in spite of coming so close to crossing that line.

It occurred to me that night that if the party responsible wouldn't show their face, then I would have to force their hand somehow. Bruce Wayne had taught me how to think on my feet. Batman had instilled in me a moral compass quite like his own. I had the will, and the mind to make it work, the only glaringly obvious problem was…I didn't quite have the skill. I was only hoping I had the strength not to fall.

* * *

"You rappelled out of your bedroom window?! You serious?!"

Delilah sank into the chair beside Sam's bed, trying to ignore the hum of the hospital intercoms. Her only response was to let her lips twist into a half smile. Sam flopped onto the pillows.

"Oh. My. God. You did!"

"Who does that?"

Del cut her eyes to Jordan, Sam's little brother. The kid was sitting on the floor against the window, with a tablet in his lap. Like his sister his cropped hair was brown, and his dark eyes were wide. The sun had placed a few freckles across the bridge of his small sloped nose. He just stared at her incredulously. Del was still public enemy number one.

"She does."

The boy rolled his eyes. "Crazy rich people." He grumbled, sliding his attention back to his tablet without giving the girls another glance.

"Since when do you rappel?"

Delilah shrugged her shoulders, watching the traffic out in the hall. "Since I started watching YouTube tutorials?"

Shortly after the Talia incident, Delilah's own wing was fortified to something akin to Fort Knox. No one came through the heavy doors without the proper code. Tampering only put the wing on lockdown. No one in. And no one out. When Delilah explained this, Samantha scoffed. "I don't know, why not just use a phone and call for help like a normal person?"

"Gee, thanks, Alfred Jr. "

At hearing his name, Alfred poked his head in the room. "Precisely. Maybe you should take to listening to Miss Cleary's advice?"

"I promise, Alfred, that's what I'll do, next time."

"Yes, Miss, I'm sure you will, after all I was only born yesterday." With that the man returned to his post in the hall, and to his book.

"So how did you end up getting locked in to begin with?" Sam asked, trying to shift herself so she could sit up.

"Thanks to a certain someone, the number pad was left hanging by wires." She hadn't even met Damian yet, and the little twerp had already managed to get on her nerves.

"Someone who?"

Delilah shook her head, leaving Sam's mouth to make a perfect 'O'. It wasn't hard to find out the details of Delilah's past, especially when the internet was still teaming with conspiracy theories about Wayne's secret lovechild. When the proverbial light bulb went off over Sam's head, Del nodded, pressing her finger to her lips.

"You look awfully fancy in that get up." Sam commented, eyeing the neat black slacks and the stark white blouse with lace sleeves. It certainly wasn't Del's usual wardrobe choice. "Heels?" Sam quipped giving the girl a raised eyebrow.

"Hey, my chucks are in the car."

"Those will be on before lunch."

"Dad thought it would be a good idea if I shadowed him at the office today." The girls stared at each other. Translation: Wayne wanted her in arms reach today. He didn't trust the school to keep her safe.

"Who wants to go to school anyway?" Sam said with a shrug. "Jor, can you get me my bag?"

"If you end up here for too long, you're going to lose your scholarship to that stupid prep school." Jordan snipped, rising to his feet to grab his sister's backpack. "It's not like Mom and Dad could afford to send you there without it."

"Lay off, Jordan, I_ know_."

Samantha Cleary lead the life that Delilah might have had if the Fates had seen it in their hearts to let her mother live. A middleclass life. A life without the public peering in. A life where there wasn't a camera being shoved into your face every time you stepped a foot outside the house. People weren't intimidated by a name, or trying to get close to you simply for your connections.

The Cleary family, was just that, a family, a quiet and unassuming bunch. They opened their home to Delilah, though it seemed to make Sam's mother really nervous, and Sam's father a little too intrigued for his own good. But as a unit they were the kind of family Del found herself wishing she could have had. It was always a curious notion to wonder just what her father would have been like had fate been just slightly different. But it was never an idea that the girl entertained for long. The fates must have had some clue of what they were doing. Or so one could hope.

"Don't worry about the scholarship. Nothing is going to happen to it."

Sam stopped rifling through her bag and stared. "Oh? And how the hell do you know?

"Guess who funds the scholarship…"

Sam looked up at the ceiling and sighed. Seeing the relief cross her face was little consolation when it compared to how she arrived here. Delilah watched as Sam pulled a sleek black tin tube from her bag and handed it to her. "Ta Da."

It was full of black and yellow smoke bombs. "I made those while we were waiting. You didn't specify a color so…" Samantha shrugged, tossing her bag on the floor. "You never did tell me what they were for. Inquiring minds want to know."

"Inquiring minds will have to wait for another day." Delilah teased, slipping the tube quickly into her purse.

"You're no fun."

As the sound of heels drew close from the hall, Delilah rose to her feet, trying to offer Evelyn Cleary a smile when the woman entered the room. Her hazel eyes looked worn, as if she had been awake the entire night. As if she could blame the woman.

"Hello Mrs. Cleary."

"Miss Wayne."

Delilah felt her brows knit together. Weird. She always called her by name.

"I think it's time for you go."

Delilah grabbed her purse as Sam's face twisted. "She just got here." But Sam's mother raised her dimpled chin defiantly. "I'm sorry, but the truth of the matter is, you being near her puts you in danger."

"MOM!"

"Please understand…" The words weren't met for her daughter, not when Delilah could look right into the woman's eyes when she spoke. "It's just not safe. I would prefer it if you didn't come around anymore."

"It wasn't Delilah's fault, Mom." Samantha snapped. But Del held up her hand. "No. I understand." She said softly, her heels clicking as she made her way to the door. "Call me when you feel up to it." She offered, stopping at the door. Mrs. Cleary's arms folded in front of her as she spoke. "That's not a good idea either." She said primly. "I'm sorry, Delilah. But I have to protect my daughter."

Alfred was already on his feet when she crossed the threshold into the hall, closing the door gently behind her. It didn't stop the voices from carrying. "Really Mom? It wasn't her fault that some lunatic decided to inject me with chemicals."

"No, I'm she was the target, but I'm not willing to bet your life on it."

"If it was her instead of me, she'd be dead."

"Yes she would have. But you would have been safe."

Alfred touched the girl's arm, pulling her away from the door. "Perhaps we shouldn't dawdle here." He said softly, letting the buzz of the lobby drown the conversation. "She's just doing what most mother's do."

Delilah sighed, feeling the sunlight brush her cheek as they step out to the sidewalk. "I know, Alfred." She paused, smoothing her coat over her arm, as Alfred opened the door to the car. Jax had somehow managed to mash his body into the floorboard behind the driver's seat. He offered her a toothy dog smile as he struggled to untangle himself. At least the dog was happy to see her.

"Master Bruce will join you at the office shortly." In other words, he wasn't leaving the house until Alfred returned. Oh, she had an inkling why that was…

"So, what's my kid bother like?"

The girl watched the man's face twitch in the review mirror. "He's just a barrel of fun."

"Oh, joy."

"Although… he has yet to rappel from his bedroom window…like someone else I know."

Delilah lifted her hands as Jax forced his heavy head onto her lap. "Dad hasn't called me yet, so I take it you haven't told him." She said, watching the dog's big brown eyes close as she rubbed his head.

"No. I didn't see any reason to." When the teen looked up, she realized he was starting at her. He knew. Surely he knew she was up to something. "Don't give me reason to."

"I'll try not to."

Alfred said nothing more, except to grumble about the foolishness of fathers and daughters.

* * *

The girl could hardly make it off the elevator before she was swarmed. "When is you're father coming in. he really needs to hear about this." Delilah didn't even hesitate; she simply took the folder from the woman. "He'll be here shortly." She said, peering into the folder. "Now that's not right." Account skimming. She closed it, but didn't give it back. "When do you think your father could hold a conference about the Kaiser account?" Del spared the man a look, aware that Jax was all but leading himself to their destination.

"Soon."

"6?"

"Not _that_ soon. C'mon, he'd kill me." Definitely not. Now that the sun was starting so set earlier and earlier, it meant Batman was also able to leave at an earlier time, of course that never meant he'd be home any earlier.

"What's this rumor I hear about Lex Corp is sniffing around?"

That got them quiet, for all but a split second.

"And how did you hear about that? You're all of what? Fifteen?"

Delilah paused. "Do _you_ want to break it to my father?" She asked looking up at the man as his mouth flopped open and then closed. "Kaiser was seen having lunch with some members of the board in Metropolis." He loosened his tie, as if it were strangling him. "That's the rumor anyway."

"Oh, really now? We'll just see about that." Reaching the large double doors, the girl wrenched one open. " See, now that's why I like this kid." She was one of the closest voices in her father's ear. They knew that…and so did she. Perhaps most adults wouldn't take order or direction from a fifteen year old but Bruce Wayne had been grooming the girl from the moment the world learned that Wayne Enterprises had an heiress. In other words, they had no choice. He who holds majority share, makes the rules.

"Can I bring you anything?" the secretary asked, as she managed to cut through the small group of sharks that had built up around the door. "I'll be fine, Janice, thank you. But would you be so kind as to warn the ladies around the water cooler that I'm here." The woman grinned. Nothing made gossipers scatter quite like the boss's daughter. "I thought watching them put their feet into their mouths was one of your favorite pass times."

"It is, I just want to make sure they can't say they weren't warned." With that Del shut the door.

* * *

When Bruce finally made it in, his daughter had already made herself comfortable at his desk. Jax was sprawled out in front of it, he didn't even bother to lift his head. "They're freaking out about the Kaiser account, you know." She told him, peering over the monitor. "If it were me, I'd drop the snake on his ass. But I think I'm more vengeful than you are…businesswise."

"Uh, huh." He was still trying to adjust his tie, it was then that Delilah realized that he seemed a little flushed and that veins in his neck were budging. "Who has high blood pressure issues again?" Del asked, shoving herself away from the desk, and crossing the room. "Geez, what are you doing to that thing? Haven't you ever paid attention to Alfred?" she asked, righting the tie for him before he knotted it to death.

"Damian must have set you off this morning. Full on Batman butt chewing?"

"You could say that." Of course she could. She's had one or two of those herself, and if she wasn't careful there was bound to be a third. If he didn't confine her to her wing for the rest of her life to top it off.

"The test?" She asked softly, knowing full well he was checking for the results the second they became available.

"Part MDMA, part venom."

"Ecstasy?"

"It's such a high concentration that it causes the body to literally boil." That explained the bleeding. A body's blood pressure would get so high that it would literally force the blood out of any opening it could squeeze through.

"Mom never, and I mean _never_–"

"I know, Del. But it is the same mixture. Compared to your mother's samples, they're a close match." Bruce said carefully, aware that his daughter was pacing the length of the office and back again. But when his words finally sunk in she paused, her face was impassive. A trait she had picked up from him, not that he cared to see her mirroring it so well. "A close match?"

"What Sam was injected with had more MDMA, less venom."

"But with Mom?"

"It was the other way around. It was enough MDMA to cause her to bleed out, but also-"

"To feel the effects of the venom…."

Bruce nodded.

"They wanted me to die as quickly as possible. I'd die of heart attack before I'd even start to bleed..but Mom…" Delilah felt herself shudder as realization began to seep in. Her mother's screams always echoed back to her in anger, but knowing now that her mother was in severe pain…

Del crumbled back into the chair; the simple motion seemed to pull Jax to his paws, warranting a head in the lap. "I don't understand." She said softly, tracing the shape of the dog's head with the pads of her fingers. "Were the Santa Prisca accounts that big of a deal?" She asked, finally willing herself to look up at her father, who was leaning on the desk. "I mean, we still get revenue skimmers. Hell, we have one right now. Were the amounts large?"

"How do you know about those?"

"I heard you guys in the kitchen…"

But her father was shaking his head. "No, they weren't. Most to the Analysts didn't even notice." He said crossing his arms against his chest. He was staring out the window rather than looking at her. "It was a pattern of small sums that been filtered over a span of years."

"Where do the Zesti Cola deaths come in?"

"Bigger chunks started to go missing, right as people started to die. The accounts haven't been touched since then."

"Could it be someone here?" Delilah asked suddenly, causing her father to finally look at her, even if it was just a passing glance. "If it is, they're still here; no one has up and quit or left the department that handles those accounts."

"The accounts haven't been touched. Not once?"

"No. I've been monitoring them myself."

"Then they got their payoff some other way." Delilah snagged her bag from under the desk, and began fishing for her sneakers. "What I don't get is why. Maybe Mom found something, and that's why they went after her. But why come after me? No one stands to gain anything from it."

"They may not think that's true."

"Damian? You mean in a scenario where he and I might actually be related?"

"You are." Bruce said gravely. "I ran DNA tests this morning."

Yikes. "You have a kid with Talia?" Delilah put her head in her hands. "Oh, crap Dad. Talia?! Seriously? Of all the women in the world to-"

"She drugged me."

"Ugh. That sounds like her, but ugh." With that Delilah held up her palms. "Okay… _that_ aside why would she…" The words fell from Delilah's mouth. "A pity I never met your mother, but perhaps for you it was for the best…"

Her father was gazing at her now, eyebrow raised. No question he was waiting on an explanation. "She said that to me when I met her. Why would she say something like that to me?"

"Intrigued and jealous."

"Jealous of what?"

"Not what, who. You. I raised you."

"But not Damian." Delilah jammed her foot into her shoe, wrenching up the laces. "That could have been changed long ago. She should have thought about that!"

"Easy."

Delilah clamped her mouth shut, realizing just how loud she was becoming. "Sorry." She muttered, tossing her heels into her bag. She didn't even make it to lunch, Sam was right…as usual. "But she knows who I am. We've met. Whoever did this to Sam, picked her because of a number that was on a roster…not because they knew what I looked like."

Wayne opened his mouth when the intercom on his desk beeped. "Mr. Drake has arrived, Sir."

"Thank you, Janice, We'll be right there."

"As much as I don't like her, I seriously doubt this was any of her doing. Even if Damian stood to inherit, she's too methodical and too controlling to let something this sloppy happen."

"Agreed." He told her, draping her coat over her shoulders when she finally stood. "So why go after me? Unless it was to get to you…"

For the space of breath, her father didn't move, but just as she thought there might have been something to it, he was moving toward the door, only pausing to wait for her to catch up.

"We'll have to talk about this later." Translation: _I don't have the answers...yet. _But knowing him, he would figure it out. He always did.

* * *

"There's the man of the hour."

Delilah stood back letting her father deal with the niceties. But as she watched men shake hands, she quickly noticed the young man who was standing off to the side. "Jack, always good to see you. Of course you know my daughter, Delilah."

Delilah's eyes cut to the man, offering him a smile. "Hello, Mr. Drake." Drake? Right? Oh, fuck.

"Haven't seen you, Missy in a long time. I'm sure you keep your father on his toes."

"Of course."

He then gestured to the dark haired boy who was standing so quietly off to his side. "This is my son Timothy." But Tim simply smiled. "Delilah and I go to school together, Dad." He explained,

"Well that makes things easier then, doesn't it?"

Timothy Drake by all accounts was a pretty decent guy, if a bit of a know it all. But he never bothered her so that was a plus. They were by no means friends, just acquaintances at best. "So the rumor is, you gave Pike a bloody nose."

Delilah flinched when her father's fork clattered against his plate. "Oh, really?"

"Uh oh, Bruce, sounds like you have a spitfire on your hands."

Delilah stabbed at her salad, trying to smother the overwhelming urge to stab Tim with her fork.

"He gave himself a bloody nose, when he did a face-plant in the hallway the other day." At that the girl held up her hands. "I don't know what's worse, admitting he busted his own face, or saying I did it for him."

Tim was grinning.

"Pike? Who names their kid after a fish?" Jack wanted to know, easing the tensions she could feel radiating off of her father.

"Celebrities." Delilah offered, liking the husky sound of the man's chuckle.

"You're awfully busy for a fifteen year old." Jack commented, leering at Tim who slumped ever so slightly. A duck if Del ever saw one. "Not only do you shadow your old man around, you're constantly volunteering…what was it last week? Quest Kids- Kid's Quest?"

"An organization that helps put community parks back together."

"Right." He said, stopping only to take a sip of his drink, "And when I passed 'Page for Parents' the other day, I could have sworn I saw you there."

"You probably did. Just because you put an organization together, doesn't mean you only pass through every now and then. Philanthropy only goes so far. If you want something good to come of it, you have to actively be a part of it."

"Oh I see, Dad funds, you participate. Quite the tag-team."

"Don't let her fool you, she's badgered me into participating a few times."

Delilah feigned shock. "I don't badger." She protested. "I simply suggest…over and over. "

"Until she wears me down."

Delilah wanted to snort. Wear Batman down? Please. No one simply annoyed him into doing anything he didn't want to. Page for Parents had started out as the idea of a ten year old girl. For all her ranting and raving about the lack of support for single parent families, she never thought her father would take the steps to make the idea into something real. One could only guess that it struck a chord with her father since he himself was a single parent.

Barbies, tutus, teary eyed tantrums, bogyman checks, and bedtime stories. It was all uncharted territory for him. Had it not been for Barbra, Bruce wasn't sure if he could have navigated 'little girl land.' And he was Batman for crying out loud! But everything seemed to be turning out okay. So far.

The moment the plates were cleared from the table, Jack spoke, "Wayne, why don't you ask your lovely daughter to take that dog that's all but drooling at your feet for a walk, I'll have the boy escort her and we'll be free to talk business."

Delilah had to fight not to make a face.

"Have your phone?" her father asked her.

When she nodded, he simply handed her the leash. Tim excused himself, following the girl and the dog out into the plaza just under the shadow of Wayne Enterprises. For a long moment, neither said a word.

"Did that seem weird to you?" Tim asked suddenly, tilting his head up at the pale blue sky.

"Very. My Dad never asks me to leave when it's business."

"Mine either."

"It doesn't mean I won't find out later." The girl said with a shrug. Tim just stared at her, keeping his pace. "What?" She asked when he just kept staring. "Nothing, you're just kind of different outside of school…less ice woman…more-"

"Human?" Del supplied, as Jax lead them into the park, knowing the route they usually took.

"Sorry, that sounds worse than I thought."

"I'm used to it." She said, listening to the tags on the doberman's collar jingle as they walked. "There's more important things than high school popularity…so I rather focus on those."

"Page for Parents. The gymnastics, the piano lessons, choir, volunteer work, the business."

"And the animal sanctuary."

At that Tim paused. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Saturdays. I stopped doing the choir thing when my tonsils were removed."

"Do you keep yourself this busy on purpose? I mean, you're making the rest of us look bad."

At that Delilah laughed, covering her mouth when she actually snorted. "You tell anyone I did that, I'm kicking your ass." She said when he started to chuckle at her. "So I take it you're not as involved with things as your Dad would like."

Tim pursed his lips. "That obvious?" he asked, looking away from the branches above their heads. "According to him, I spend way too much time tinkering on my projects."

"Tinkering isn't bad. My bother says I stay this busy just so I can get out of having a social life."

At that Tim raised a brow, "I didn't know you had a brother." He said, watching her stop at a hot-dog stand. Surely she wasn't hungry. When she caught him looking at her funny, she smiled. "Chill, it's not for me." She told him. "Dick isn't related." She said, digging into her purse for the cash.

"If it's for who I think it is, keep the money."

"Thank you."

"Tell him to come see me; I think I have a job for him, if he wants it."

"Will do."

"Dick?"

"Dick Grayson. My Dad took him in when he was younger."

Tim followed the girl as she veered onto the leaf ridden green, weaving through the balding trees as if she had done it millions of times before.

"As in the 'Flying Graysons'?"

"Mmm hmm." She answered, but she didn't even look back at him, her eyes seemed locked onto a gray-haired man who was reading on a park bench. "Mr. Harold, how's Verne today?" The man peered over the worn leather book, giving the girl a tight lipped smile. "Fantastic as always." He told her.

"Jax and I brought you some lunch. It's kind of hard to read through 20,000 leagues under the see without some sustenance you know."

"And if I refuse to take it?"

"You know I'm just going to leave it here." She warned. Setting the food down beside him on the bench, but handing him the cup of coffee. "Mr. Cho said he'd like to talk to you. Says he has a job if you're interested."

The man sighed. "Never argue with the lady." He told Tim. "She's hard to bargain with."

"Bargain? Who said I bargain?"

"I see your point." Tim said, tilting his head as he read the title in the man's hands. " I liked 20,000 leagues under the sea, but Journey to the center of the Earth, that's a favorite."

"Now you sound like her." The old man jested, jerking a thumb to Del.

"To each their own. Don't forget about Mr. Cho."

"Oh, I won't. Thank you for the lunch, Sweetheart."

"I'm just looking out for my fellow Vernian, but you're welcome."

Tim was beside himself, watching the girl kick up the leaves so the dog could try to catch them. "You're on a first name basis with the locals around here."

"Most of them. When I was younger, Dick and I would mingle out here while Dad worked."

"We have pictures of the Graysons. My parents saw them perform just before they died; Dick is in a few of them. I'll have to bring them to school so you can see them."

"I don't really know when I'll be back at school. Dad may not let me go back."

"Oh… I'm sorry about your friend."

"I am too, more than you realize." Delilah said, cutting her eyes to the ground, watching shadows build up behind them. She listened for a moment, trying to hear the sound of shoes scuffing or tapping on the concrete, but there was nothing. When someone touched her shoulder, she dropped the leash, balled a fist and swung. The sound of her fist hitting her father's open palm was loud. He held her fist just a breath away from his face.

She recoiled, when he let her hand fall. "Jesus, Dad. I'm sorry."

"Damn, Wayne. Those are some relaxes." Jack sputtered when he recovered from his shock. Bruce smirked as he shook his hand out. "Good thing too, she hits hard." Tim didn't say a word; he only watched the father and daughter curiously. There was more here than what they saw. He could feel it.

* * *

"I _am_ sorry."

Bruce's only response was to step out of the elevator. "You're still too slow." He told her, flashing her a smile out of the corner of his mouth. She immediately socked him in the arm, letting Jax run to the office door, dragging his leash behind him.

"Slow he says. You just wait until we get home!"

But as Jax stood at the door and growled, the teasing look slid from her father's face. The second he opened a door, the dog shoved his way inside, barking and snarling as he charged forward. "_Down_."

Jax was sitting obediently in the middle of floor, baring his teeth at the dark haired boy who was lounging with his feet on the desk.

"What are you doing here?"

"Reviewing my inheritance."

Delilah chocked on a laugh. "Cute."

At that moment, the phone in Bruce's pocket began to vibrate, shaking his head he whipped it out.

_"Yes, Alfred?"_

Delilah moved from the door way, eyeing the boy carefully. He wasn't that tall, even for ten, he was thin but lean. Looking at him she could almost pull out the parts of him that belonged to her father…or their father. The chin, the shape of his mouth, the hair, the ears. But unlike a complete Bruce Wayne mini, his eyes were a dark shade of green, and his nose was slightly rounder, like one she knew Talia to have.

_"He's here…yes, if you don't mind."_

As intently as Delilah was studying Damian, he seemed to be regarding her just the same. She plopped on the thick black sofa in the office, summoning Jax to her side with a snap of her fingers. The dog came and hunkered down on the floor at her feet, though his posture was anything but relaxed.

"And just who are you?" Damian asked, swiveling the chair to face her, his elbows were propped on the arms of the chair, his fingers neatly locked. It certainly wasn't the posture of a ten year old.

"What your Mommy didn't tell you?"

_"Ask Dick if he would, he's more likely to if it comes from you."_

At that Del's eyes moved from the kid, to her father. Just what was he up to?

"She must not have thought you were important."

"Del?"

Her chance to retort was stolen. "Yeah, Dad?" but out of the corner of her eye she could see Damian's eyes widen just ever so slightly. "Alfred is on his way; Dick will be meeting you at the manor later."

"All right…what about Mr. Fox?"

"I won't be staying much longer myself, so if you want to visit with him, do it now." Delilah pulled herself from the sofa. He didn't trust Damian by himself. That was clear. "Alrighty." Visiting with Lucius Fox was something they always tended to do together, so when offered the chance to talk to him alone, she jumped at it.

"What? Did you think you were an only child?" She asked, smiling when Damian's expression soured.

"I can rectify that." Damian said simply as she opened the door to let Jax out first.

"You have to go through him." She said giving a nod toward their father, as she moved to shut the door behind her. She ducked out as soon as something hard and heavy went flying through the air, hitting the door frame instead of the intended target. She quickly shut the door to keep any shrapnel from bouncing into the hallway.

"You missed." She called, knowing full well he could hear her. Poor Janice stared down the hall wide eyed. "Is everything okay?"

"Yep. Just another day at the office." The girl said easily, calling Jax to her with a pat on her leg. "Let's go see the Fox, Jax." She jested, racing the Doberman to the elevator with her backpack in tow.

* * *

"Oh, no. here comes trouble."

"Who? Me? Nah." Delilah plopped herself on a stool, and rolling herself to the table where he sat. Her father had made sure he had been reappointed to the board, but after so much time in the prototype hanger, one could say it grew on the man. She picked up the glove in front of him, surprised at how light it was.

"Kevlar weave if you can believe it." He said, watching the girl.

"Why doesn't he use something like this? It's so light."

"Not enough of it to make an entire suit. He's a big man, you know." He said, sliding from his chair to retrieve the rest of the fabric, when he came back to the table, the girl was turning one of the grapple guns over in her hand. "There may not be enough for him, but for someone a lot smaller, that's another story."

Delilah reared her head up at that. "You never come down here without your father, let alone toting a bag. Does your father know what you're up to?"

"God, I hope not."

Fox was shaking his head. "I'm not going to lie to him if he asks."

"Then I'll have to make sure he doesn't ask." She rolled the grappler in her hand. "Got anything bigger?"

"Why don't you show me what you have in mind and I'll see what I can drum up."

Del immediately opened her bag, pulling out a note book, hidden between some pages of math, were few designs and algorithms for distance, speed and trajectory scrawled out in pen. Every page screamed that it was a product of sleepless night. "I can make minor adjustments." She said, as the man took the notebook from her. " But anything major might get me busted, he hoards most of the tools. And I definitely can't go back up there without something for him."

Lucius dark eye's crinkled when he smiled. "Child, who do you think you're talking to?" She could have hugged him right then and there. "Just tell me where to send this stuff…though I'm a bit surprised, no bats?"

"No. He'd know it was me immediately. I want to hold that off for as long as I can."


	8. Promises And Clues

**A/N** A bit more layering, Sibling rivalry, and if you catch it, a clue that someone might show their face in the next chapter. Thank you everyone for the reviews, you have no idea how motivating they can be. As for bumping the rating down to Teen, I'm a little unsure of that, only because I know what's coming. It's been mild, yes, but only because Del has not fully been involved, witnessing things with her own eyes. But I'll definitely keep the suggestion in mind, especially if the chapters don't shape quite like I expect.

* * *

I, like so many in this world have my own fears, rational and otherwise. Death tends to top the list for so many. I look at it like this, death is inevitable. No one gets out of it. (Unless you're Ra's al Ghul.) The eternal sleep at the end of a life is nowhere near my list of 'things to be afraid of' but being alone for whatever time I have left on this earth, that's another matter.

To many I'm just a rich little girl who has the world at her feet. But really…my world is rather small. Dad, Dick, Alfred and Sam; the pillars of my life. If one of them should fall, I don't know what I would do. When the Dark Knight leaves this house, there's always a risk that he might not come back. It's enough to keep me pacing the floor of the bat cave into the wee hours of the morning. He _hates_ that. He never wanted a life where someone would be stuck, anxiously waiting for him to come home. It's not something he foresaw taking on the role as Batman. Nor did it occur to him what would happen when he finally stepped into the role of a parent. I've learned that what my father does has its own risks.

He's learning to accept that there are people who do care about what happens to him. And I'm still learning not to hold my breath when he leaves. I have faith in my father, but even I know when he's starting to get in over his head. My father is not one to ask for help. That suits me fine, it just means I never have to tell him when I'm helping him.

* * *

When Alfred Pennyworth glanced in the backseat, both Wayne children had their faces tilted out toward their own perspective windows, the sunlight flickering across their faces as the buildings rose and fell, casting shadows down on the car. It couldn't get any more awkward.

"Master Dick will be waiting for you at the manor, Miss Wayne."

The girl seemed to sink back as she reached up to push the wisps of dark brown hair that had skirted around her face. At that moment, she looked exhausted, as if the front she had built was let down.

"Dad told me he might."

"He has a son now, he doesn't need that fill in."

Just as easily as Delilah had let her guard down, it was built right back up.

"Let's get this clear." She said evenly, turning ever so slightly to the dark haired boy across from her. "As far as I'm concerned. He _is _my brother. Which is more than I can say for you."

Damian's grim set mouth opened. "I'm his blood son." He shot out.

"And?"

"That's all he needs. He doesn't even need _you_. "

Delilah flopped back on the seat, rolling her big blue eyes at the ceiling of the cab. "Yes he does…" She said with a sigh. "You just have no idea. You only know what your mother and grandfather told you. You know _of _him. But you don't _know_ him."

"_Hmph_."

"_Hmph_, yourself, Ninja Boy."

From the reflection of her window, she could see Damian peering over his shoulder at her. Was he not used to people challenging him back? The thought was quickly banished when the Manor began to rise from the top of the cliff, Del spotted Dick, parked on the steps.

"Really, Miss Wayne!" Alfred called, the car hadn't fully come to a stop and the girl had simply hopped out with a Doberman in her wake.

"So this is Grayson?" Well, fuck. Look who's a bit of a copycat. Dick looked a little miffed staring at the nameless boy, but Damien only looked at him and shrugged his shoulders. "A lot shorter than I thought he would be."

Delilah didn't hesitate; she slapped him on the back of the head. "Jesus, you're rude." The boy quickly turned on his heel, if Del hadn't dodged she would have gotten a foot in the face, but that didn't stop him from advancing. She was blocking and dogging him the best she could, but he was quicker than she expected. She knew it, and now so did he.

"Come on! Can't you fight back?!" He jeered, when she caught his hand, he then made a move to sweep her legs out from under her, but instead of spilling to the ground, the girl bent back, pushing off her free hand into a back hand spring, creating enough space between them for Dick and Alfred to fit. "You alright, Miss Wayne?" Alfred asked, aware that the girl was breathing rather heavily. "He's a quick little shit." She breathed, forcing herself to stretch her arms to the sky and take a deep breath as the old man's face turned a bright shade of pink.

"Sorry, Alfred. It just came out."

"I'd say your filter is broken again." He commented, turning then to steer Damion away from the driveway and toward the house. "This way, Master Damian."

Damian paused on the steps, his dark green eyes landing on Delilah. "I told you, he doesn't need the fill in. And he certainly doesn't need you."

Dick had his fingers locked behind his head, he was watching the boy and the butler disappear inside the house, when Delilah approached him. "Who's the kid?"

"My brother."

He turned to her at that. "Excuse me?"

"Talia and Dad." She grumbled out, stomping up the steps with Dick just behind her. "When did this happen?!"

"Talia just dropped him in Dad's lap last night."

"After all the times he bitched at me about being careful…"

Delilah held the door for him but he shook his head. "Go put some jeans on and meet me in the garage."

He didn't have to tell her twice.

* * *

Damian slipped from the house quietly, paying no mind to how the damp grass clung to his shoes. What he didn't like was how the dew left evidence of his presence. Just in front of him the orange remnants of the sun was sinking just behind the trees. And somewhere, just beyond reach of the balding branches he could hear the revving of a bike as it shifted gears.

"Now, you're goosing it on purpose." Dick accused, becoming visible, as Damian waded soundlessly through the trees. Judging by the wide smile on his face, he didn't seem to mind that the girl was horsing around. Grandfather never would have stood for that. There was never time for such immaturity. Leaning against the soft bark of a birch, the boy slid down into an easy crouch, watching the bike zip past him. She floored it across the yard, leaning in with a sharp turn when Grayson gestured for her to circle back. Even from here, the world could hear her whoops of joy. The boy just shook his head.

Bringing the bike in front of Grayson, she shut it down, kicking out the stand to let it lean as she pulled the helmet off, revealing a smile just as wide and ridiculous as his. "So?"

"I'm so proud of you!" Dick cried in pure mockery, swinging an arm around Delilah. "She's so grown up!"

"Oh, God, you _are_ a dork." But then quietly, "Thanks, Dick."

"But I'm an awesome dork, right?"

"Duh." The girl looked down at her helmet then back up at Grayson. "I don't know how Dad is going to handle this."

Damian turned his head to the sound of the gate being opened; he watched wordlessly as a black car slid through and began its ascent up the curving drive. "I guess we're about to find out." Damian felt his lips twist, as their father slid from the car. He walked right to the ledge of the drive and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"See ya up there. Whatever you do, don't go for the defensive right off the bat. Remember you and I have to have a talk. So don't piss him off too much."

Delilah didn't say anything, but put her helmet back in place; kick started the bike and raced up the driveway. Though to her credit she took the curves easily, playing the part of a novice who was utterly proud of herself rather than a girl who picked up a skill at a rate her so called teacher wasn't expecting. Dick sighed, and started to march up to the house, but the man paused. "Yo, Kid, C'mon."

Damian pulled himself from his crouch slowly. "What? Didn't think we noticed?" Damian didn't say a word, listening intently for the voices that broke the layering evening. "And just what is this?"

"A dirt bike?" Delilah said dubiously, still grinning when she peeled herself from the bike. She might have been happy with herself, Bruce Wayne on the other hand….was not. "And what if something happened?" He wanted to know, following her when she began to walk the bike to the garage.

"Ever see one of these before?" Delilah asked, shaking her helmet. "I could be wrong but it could be this thing that people wear in case of accidents."

Dick immediately put his palms into his face. So much for not hopping on the defensive.

"Delilah, you-"

"Have limits. _I know._" Del supplied, lining the bike back into its place. She didn't have to turn around to know he had that stern look on his face. She could feel his eyes on her back. "Don't you think I know when I'm reaching my limits?!" She cried turning swiftly on her heel. "I know when I can't catch my breath; I know when my heart rate is getting a little too high. I know to stop when I feel like I'm getting dizzy. And none of that happened." She lifted her arms, but the just flopped to her sides. "I just wanted to learn how."

"Then why didn't you come to me?"

"Would you have said okay, if I did?"

Her father's lips tightened, his silence was all the answer that she needed.

"Exactly." She moved to buzz right by him, but he stepped right into her path. When he wouldn't move out her way she turned back to the garage, fisting her hands. "I get it. I get it." She whispered. "You don't want anything to happen to me."

"Someone gets babied."

In the seconds it took for the words to come from Damian's mouth, Delilah grabbed the first thing she could and flung it at him. The boy simply caught the wrench in his hand, not even flinching when it met his palm with a crack. "Still too slow." He said, dropping the wrench to the ground with a clatter.

Damian lunged, but found his father's hand fist in his shirt, Grayson had moved into the garage, and was restraining the girl from leaving. "Whoa, no round 2."

"Why not? It'd be quick." Damian sneered.

"C'mon then you little shit."

"KNOCK IT OFF!"

Oh, fuck. Batman voice. Delilah relaxed, letting Dick release her.

Her father had Damian in an arm bar. He wasn't letting go. "I catch you riding without a helmet, that's it. You're done." With that he drug Damian off toward the house. When his shadow disappeared from sight, Del slid to the floor.

"Well, that went over like a fart in church."

"Thanks, Captain Obvious." Delilah snipped, watching Dick as he put the wrench away. "Damian's right…he always wears the kids gloves with me."

At that Dick wandered over and slid himself to the floor next to her, stretching out his long legs as he leaned against a beam. "Was he ever like that with you? Or Barbra? Or Jason?"

Dick leaned his head back and looked up at the ceiling. "Not exactly. He was hard with us at times, but we never fell into the same category as you either."

When she didn't say anything he looked back down. "You're a different ball of wax, whether you want to admit it or not. He wasn't in love with our mothers. He didn't come in and out of our lives before we came here. He didn't raise us from the age of a pre-schooler. And yes, he cares for all of us, even if he can be a real big grumpy pain in the ass, but you he loves. It's not like we ever drew him pictures with crayons and glitter you know…"

"Oh, god, I did do that…" Delilah sighed, "He even left one of them in the bat cave for almost a month and a half."

"And I haven't even gotten to all the health junk yet." At that Delilah hung her head. "Really? Do we need to cover this part?" But when Dick held up his hand, she quieted, bringing her up her knees and tucking them under her chin.

"It's not something he can visibly fight. He has to sit back and watch you fight something alone. That's not how he operates. He takes on a Robin or a Batgirl, to fight together. He can't jump in and protect you the same way he would for us. Do you know how much that that drives him crazy? So the only thing he knows to do is to kid-glove you."

"So I don't fight at all…"

Delilah inter locked her fingers and released them again. "But it keeps me from living…"

"And that's where you two butt heads."

"Why do you think he's never took me on?" She asked, surprised the words even came out at all. But then Dick sighed. "I think it's more about him, than you."

He said giving her a glance. "Out there, he must be Batman. He can't be distracted from it. When he gets distracted, he starts making mistakes, and we both know how well he handles those. I think he sees you as a major distraction."

When Del's shoulder's began to slump, Dick turned toward her. "Who's you're Dad? Batman? Or Bruce Wayne?"

Delilah furrowed her brows. "Both…" But as the word slid out she understood what he was getting at. "He can't be both when he's on patrol." Dick nodded. "He knows that too. I think he's not sure if he could keep them separated if you were involved."

"Makes sense."

Dick reached over and slapped the girl on the back. "While we're on this subject, I wanted to talk to you about something…"

At that Delilah sat up.

"A Kid came to me, he knows that your father is Batman, And that I'm Nightwing."

Delilah felt her mouth fall open. "How?!"

Dick worked himself to his feet. "He has proof that he pieced together on some hunches." He said, offering her a hand to pull her to her feet. "I've been running him through his paces….Del, he's good. Very good, and he wants to help. "

Before Delilah could say anything, Dick held up his hands. "I know, I know how you feel about it, but we both know that your Dad needs an extra hand out there."

Delilah crossed her arms in front of her. "I want to meet him. " At that Dick's lips split into one of his wide grins. "I was hoping you'd say that. I asked him to stop by on Sunday night, while we stuff our faces with Chinese and poke fun at movies." He told her, sliding an arm around her shoulder so he could begin to drag her toward the house.

"Okay, but now I have something to ask _you_." Dick froze right there on the pathway. "It's one of those fantastic and stupid ideas of yours isn't it?"

"Oh, but they're fun." She teased. He simply sighed, rolled his eyes and looked down at his shoes. "Okay…okay." He said looking at her. "Let's hear it."

"Dad won't take me on...but would you? Or could you?"

Dick went silent.

" I want to see if I can. If I can't if something happens, I'll stop."

"You're really not ready." When she opened her mouth to protest he stopped her. "After regionals, I will take you out for one night to see if it's a possibility." She almost started jumping up and down right there. "For the next three weeks, when I pop up here, I want to see you training your butt off."

"Damian almost handed my ass to me." Delilah shot Dick a glance; "Don't tell him I said that. "

"No, I won't tell him. But you did almost get your ass handed to you by a ten year old."

"Oh come on! He's been trained by the league of assassins since day one!."

"Three weeks."

Delilah watched as Dick headed for his car. Three weeks. It wasn't a very long stretch to prepare from. Lucius was a man of his word, he'd send her the suit, but he wasn't a miracle worker. It didn't give much time for trial runs. She'd have to make the best of them. Not only that, she'd have to avoid Nightwing and Batman completely until then. It wasn't going to be an easy feat. "I'll probably see you later. He's going to be grumpy as fuck."

"Sorry…"

* * *

"In the cave?"

Alfred nodded, watching as the girl circled around the kitchen. "Neither one is hungry, and this may be a futile attempt, but are you hungry?" The girl smiled. "Alfred, I can't speak for the mini Bruce, but if you make something with bacon, I bet I can get the Bats to scarf down at least half of it."

Delilah, counted the steps as she wandered down to the batcave, slowly letting her eyes adjust to the dim light as she descended into the earth, listening to the bat chatter and the sound of the falls flooding in from the ocean. Damian was standing up on the platform with his hands behind his back. "This must be fake." He complained staring at the black and white photo of Del throwing a punch into the Joker's cell. Delilah only looked up and shrugged. "Nope that's real." She said, making her way to the computer.

Her father turned his head, just as she picked up half the sandwich off of her plate. "You do know I was teasing about you hanging that, right?" She framed the article as a gag. Looks like the joke was on her. Batman did have a sense of humor.

"You never specified where I would hang it." His eyes slid to the sandwich in her hand, he took it from her. "What is it with you and the bacon? It's not good for that heart."

"Is that why you're always swiping my food? Batman, the bacon Nazi."

He said nothing, he simply stood up, and handed her the headset, the cue that he was leaving.

"I'm coming with you." Damian said, hopping over the railing and down to the floor.

"_No_."

Batman and daughter both stared at each other. "Get off my brain waves." Delilah quipped, forcing her father to shake his head, as he all but swallowed the half sandwich whole.

"Face it, if I can't go, neither can you." With that Delilah plopped herself into the chair. She settled the headset in place, not that he ever asked for much. Maybe the occasional blueprint. Delilah tried not to look back as she heard the boosters firer up. But of course, old habits die hard. She watched him go. Leaving her and Damian alone with the bats.

"It's a crock. I'm far superior to your skill set."

"You do like pointing out the obvious, don't you, Ninja Boy?"

"Watch that sarcasm."

"Oh? Offends your sensibilities does it? You're making it way too easy to push your buttons." Delilah watched his reflection in the monitor, watching him wander closer as she started to go through her notes. "I don't know what your mother told you to expect. But he hasn't taken on a robin in more than ten years, he's not going to take you on, just because you're here, or because you're related by blood. You can trust me on that."

She watched his eyes fall to the plate beside her. "Take it." After she was done analyzing she wasn't going to want to eat for a while anyway. Damian didn't hesitate. The sandwich was gone in a few greedy bites. "Geez, hungry or something?"

"I was taught that you don't eat until your superiors do."

At that Delilah sighed and swiveled the chair around. "I would throw that rule right out the window while you're here. Dad-"

"Father."

Delilah cleared her throat. "_Dad_ hardly ever eats, and it's a miracle if he gets more than 3 hours of sleep at night." A miracle she called Alfred. With that, the girl turned back to the computer, crossing her legs inside the chair. "Let's see what the Bats is up to." Like normal, his end of the microphone was muted, but that didn't mean she couldn't bounce the feed off of his camera to the computer. She just hoped he didn't turn it off.

Delilah could feel Damian's weight leaning on her chair as he leaned over her, staring at the grainy footage. "Where is that?" He asked, watching his father ascend to the roof a building he didn't recognize. At first Delilah didn't answer her fingers were flying over the keyboard, pulling up the schematics of the structure on a separate screen.

"The Zesti Cola bottling plant…"

Del quickly sent him the new schematics, tapping her fingers on the arms of the chair when she watched her father test the new hologram.

_"When did you update this?"_

"Not even 30 seconds ago. Apparently they've been busy with a few remodels, especially in the lower end." _Why are you there? What are you up to? _But she just couldn't force the words out fast enough. The feed went black. "You're welcome."

"Complete black out, Miss?" Delilah listened to the sound of Alfred's footsteps.

"Of course." She muttered. "That's what I get for letting him know I can see where he is and what he's doing."

Alfred set the tray he had down. Caffeine. Oh, thank God.

"Brown sugar instead of white?"

"Yes, Master Damian."

"Lemon?"

"Yes."

Delilah reached for a mug, watching the boy and that dainty china cup. If he was going to be here all night, he was going to need something bigger. But Alfred simply shrugged when the girl glanced at him.

"I suppose this is adequate."

"Persnickety, much?"

But Damien only raised his dimpled chin at her. When one is raised in a higher station, they should act like it." But his sister was rolling her eyes.

"Save it for someone who cares." With that the girl settled in front of the computer with her mug.

"Master Damian-"

In the reflection of the screen, Delilah could see Damian peeking under a sheet. One of Dad's projects in progress. It was neat bike, but it only worked for 6 seconds flat. "He can't make it any worse, and if he manages to, it's his ass." It would give the kid something to do. Alfred only sighed and began his way back up the stairs.

"Surely I'm getting too old for this."

Delilah saw it this way, it kept them from having to speak to each other. She simply directed him when he started going through drawers and cabinets. "Top left, all the way in the back."

Damian looked down at the part in his hand and back at her. She wasn't even looking at him, but she knew what he was after. "Do you know where absolutely everything is?" he asked.

"Pretty much. I spend a lot of time down here." If she didn't, she'd practically never see her father.

It fell into an easy pattern, though the random knocks, bangs and sound of power tools took some getting used to. Nights like this, it was just her…and the bats. The hours blurred close together, marked only by the times Delilah had reached the bottom of her cup.

"Who is that?"

Delilah had her chin resting on her hand, her eyes up at the screen. She had seen these pictures so many times, and yet still they stirred everything in her. She could still feel the blood soaked night gown clinging to her, she could still remember the smell of gunpowder and the over overwhelming metallic tang of blood.

"My mother…" The words left her softer than she had anticipated. She quickly enlarged a picture of her mother, one where she was smiling and her big green eyes were full of light…and life.

"Our mother's look rather similar don't you think?" Damian asked, trying the best he could to wipe the thick black grease from his hands. Had he looked down at his hands any longer, he might have missed the quick flash of a smile at the corner of his sister's mouth. "When I met your mother for the first time…for a split second I thought she might have been…" The girl shrugged. "I guess it proves that Dad has a very particular taste in women."

"Your mother was just something to fill the void."

Delilah could feel her fingers digging into the chair. _Don't. Don't play into it_. She told herself. Surely that's what the boy wanted.

"That's what Mother says."

"Unlike her, mine didn't have to drug anyone." Delilah said coolly, cursing when she realized her cup was empty and so was the teapot.

"What's that?" When she turned her attention back to the screen, she noticed Damian pointing to something in one of the photos. After all the times she looked at these, she had never noticed it before. Her mother was upturned, her finger tips up toward the camera. As if she had forced them that way. Delilah zoomed in, realizing that there was black ink faintly written on her finger.

..- .- .- ….- …..

"Morse code?"

The chair flung back, forcing Damian to jump out of the way.

"She left clues, this entire time."

"2,1,1,4,5?"

"I know what it goes to." Though the words were more to the air then to Damian himself. He craned his neck hearing the door open from the world up stairs. "Yo! D!" Grayson came down the stairs a few a time. "Have you heard anything from the Bats?"

"No. Hasn't said a peep in the last few hours." She said quickly. Dick crossed his arms, watching the girl frantically move about the cave. "Del, what's going on?" He asked, watching her slip into an oversized leather jacket.

"She's all in a tiff over something trivial." Damian stated, jerking his thumb to the monitor behind him. His eyes widened.

"Whoa! Whoa! No!" he shouted, scrambling when he noticed she had that damn helmet he gave her on her head. Delilah only paused as she swung her leg over the first bike she had the keys to. "Get out of my way, Dick."

"And what about your Dad?"

"He'll come to _me_. Keep that one out of trouble." She said pointing at Damian.

There was nothing but a line of exhaust trailing her out of the bat cave. Dick looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "I knew it! I fucking knew it!" Nothing but trouble.

* * *

Riding this early in the morning made it easy, the roads were nearly empty, and what traffic there was, the girl weaved around easily, paying no mind to the street lights as they flickered across her helmet in brief flashes. She knew this route, even when the houses on the streets had changed over the years; she still knew the way they mapped out toward the city like veins. The old residential street she cruised on looked as if it had aged in her absence; nothing was familiar, say for one tired dark house.

Delilah cringed at the sound of her feet on the driveway, fearing they were so loud she could wake the entire neighborhood. Stepping onto the porch she felt like she couldn't breathe, forcing herself to wrench open the storm door. In the midst of digging into her pockets for the right key, her eyes caught the old scars on the bottom of the door. Marks from tiny fingernails, were still etched into the wood. Dad had replaced the flooring, changed out the windows. But he couldn't erase what happened here.

The breath she was holding slid out of her in a whoosh when she stepped inside. She was greeted by furniture draped in long white sheets. The smell of dust and age, but lingering…ever so faintly Delilah could smell home. Making quick work of the security alarm, Delilah fished a flashlight out of her pocket. The house was nearly empty now, but there had been things that her father had left, things he wanted her to go through. She just never had the heart to do it.

Delilah wandered her way to her mother's room, surprised that the steps were fewer than she remembered. It too smelled of paint and dust but when Delilah opened the closet, tears sprang to her eyes. There lingering amongst the clothes and shoes was the scent of her mother.

Delilah eased herself to her knees, letting her fingers feel for that small hole she knew to be somewhere in the closet. When she found it, she lifted the board away. "It's still here." She breathed, realizing that sitting there under a layer of dust, was a safe. Placing the flashlight in her mouth, the girl crawled on her belly to reach it. Too heavy to lift out of the small crawlspace, Delilah had no choice but to force her fingers to reach the key pad. 2,1,1,4,5. To her relief it came open. Scooping out the contents, she worked her way to her knees. A bundle of letters simply marked with the letter P. A soft leather bound book, filled with page upon page of her mother's elegant hand. And a long metal box. When Delilah finally opened it, a soft stone pendent in the shape of a bird fell into her lap. Inside there were a few other things, pictures mostly, of a blonde haired boy and his bird. She picked up the neatly folded letter.

_I've done a lot of things wrong, so I'm hoping that this can make things right one day, maybe not for me, but for you. It's Bane's Favor. We were all given a totem, carved from the rock of Peña Dura. Should something happen, take this to him. He cannot refuse what you ask of him, as long as you have this. Take care of it, and keep it safe and tell no one you have it. _

_Ben_

Delilah folded the letter back up, sliding all the contents in the box, into the bag she had with her, she only paused when she put her fingers on the floor. She could feel the vibrations of movement. Someone else was in this house. Delilah slowly pulled herself to her feet, sliding the pendent in her pocket. Just as the floor creaked behind her, the girl whirled, brandishing the flashlight, which her father caught.

"What are you doing?"

"Funny, I could ask you the same thing." She retorted, placing the boards back over the crawlspace.

"I think I know why Mom was targeted." She added stepping out of the closet, she had to stop and blink the sudden threat of tears away. "Sorry, it –"

"Still smells like her."

"Yeah…" When she finally turned and faced him, Delilah felt her mouth drop open. "What the hell happened to you?!" She asked, shining the flashlight on the wound she noticed on his arm.

"Someone who calls himself the Red Hood."

"Jesus, he tried to fill you full of expanding rounds." Had it not been for the suit, he probably would have. The rounds were made to create a larger exit than its entrance, but thankfully the suit seemed to slow the momentum enough that they at least didn't exit his body.

"There's another one up in my shoulder…I-I can't move my arm."

"And your knee." The girl cringed. Damn that had to hurt, on closer inspection she could see crystals of rock salt lining the entry of his arm. "I can try to get this one out." She told him, whipping the pair of tweezers from his utility belt before he could. "Whoever this Red Hood is, he's a sadistic shit."

His only response was to grunt at her. "I almost got it, I'm trying to keep any more salt from spilling out." She worked the tweezers carefully, trying to unhook the barbs of the round that had yet to fully expand from his flesh. It hit the floor with a thud.

"Thank you…" he breathed, forcing himself to flex his arm when he bent down and picked up the nasty round.

"Alfred is going to have to remove the other two for you…I don't think I could get those out with just a pair of tweezers." She handed him the tweezers when he held out his hand for them. "Me and the dirt bike, you and your bullet holes. Who takes the bigger risks here?" He seemed a little surprised by the statement. "I don't like it when shit happens to you, either you know." But she shrugged. "I also know it comes with the territory."

"What did you find?" Of course. Batman was all business. Delilah pulled the pendent from her pocket. "I think this is what they were after." She said, putting the object in his hand. "Who is Ben?" she asked, watching him turn it over.

"Your uncle."

"Mom never mentioned him." She said, crossing her arms. But Batman shook his head. "She wouldn't have. Ben is Bird. Mind you their only half siblings from what I understand, but your mother certainly wasn't comfortable with his connections. Every time he'd contact her, she'd pack up and move."

"She was afraid of him…of who he had around him."

He nodded.

"She only moved back to Gotham because of your grandmother's health."

Delilah shifted herself on her feet. It was strange thing to be discussing a family she had never known.

"She told me everything…but I didn't know that he had sent her this."

"She wrote the combination to the safe box on her finger in Morse code of all things. Damian noticed it in one of the pictures."

"In all the years…"

"I didn't see it either." But then every time she saw those pictures, she was right back here again, reliving the moment frame by frame in the back of her mind.

"We were too emotionally involved. Even if you did spot it…you wouldn't know what it went to." Delilah shrugged crossing the small space of the room. "I only saw Mom use the safe once. I never really thought about it again."

"About when do you think this was?"

Delilah bit her lip walking from the door to the closet as if she could still see her mother hovering over the crawlspace. "It was after my surgery. My stitches were itching…" She shook her head. "it was probably only a couple weeks before…"

Delilah wasn't sure if it was relief or agony she saw flicker across her father's face, though in truth it was hard to tell with the cowl. She hadn't hidden it from him. It was more likely that she wasn't able to tell him. If she could have then maybe…

"Someone out there must think I've had that stupid rock all this time."

"That would explain the break-ins here over the last few years."

Delilah could have kicked something. "How does this tie in to everything else? Did they simply try to make Mom's death look like another Zesti Cola mishap?"

Batman reached into his belt, showing the vials syrup he had tucked away. "I went and took some samples while I was over in that part of town, there were different tanks in different areas, including the new locations they added to the basement floors."

"Gillespe and St. James didn't ransack the house. They went right after Mom. They were told to, and I want to know who's responsible for sending them."

"So do I."

Delilah didn't fight him when he gave her a push toward the door. Stepping out of the house, the girl shuddered, trying to shake off the feelings that the house had given her.

"You're right. He did go right to you."

Delilah eyed Nighwing curiously as he lounged on her bike, it was almost as if had been waiting on them to come outside. "Magic." She said, aware that Batman all but steered her away from the bike and toward the Bat-mobile. Delilah tried not to think about the fact she had to ride home with her father. The last few times that happened, the night didn't end on a good note.

"So…can I drive?"

"No."

"You're wounded."

"I'm not hurt _that_ badly."


	9. Yellow cowl and the Red Hood

**A/N: It's early for a change. Yay. There's quite a bit going on in this one. I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

The clouds clung low to the ground that morning, heavy and hung-over with moisture. And yet Delilah could still see the little black shape, piercing through the mist.

"Not you too." She heard Alfred scoff; turning from the glass doors, Delilah tried to offer the old butler a smile. "I couldn't sleep." She told him, trying to ignore that headshake he gave her. Indeed she probably crawled in bed three hours ago. Most sane people tried for at least six hours of sleep.

"Dad's still sleeping right?" God she hoped so.

"Of course, though he'll be none too pleased."

Delilah felt her lips twitch just a little. It meant Alfred had to play dirty and give him something to make him sleep, or else he'd be in the bat cave. "He'll brood, and then he'll get over it."

"Undoubtedly. I'm beginning to wonder if I should medicate everyone in the house say for the dog." But as the butler turned back to the pressing, Delilah spoke, not even chancing to look in his direction.

"Alfred?"

"Yes Miss?"

"I need a favor."

Alfred straightened himself, unsure if he cared for the child's sudden serious tone. "Of course, Miss."

"Tomorrow, I need to make a visit to Arkahm." She peered over her shoulder, her blue eyes so unwavering. "Dad can't know…" she said softly. "At least…not right away." When he didn't immediately respond she spun around. "I know, I know it's a lot to ask of you. And I'm sorry, I don't ever want to put you in that position…but there's something I _have_ _to_ do." She wrung her fingers together, looking at him, but then casted those blue eyes down at her hands. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

"Alright, Delilah, alright."

"Thank you…"

"Don't thank me yet."

The girl didn't say another word to him. She listened to his footsteps as he carried the pressing toward the stairs. Only then did she slide through the door and into the outside world, leaving Jax to hunker down at the window. _This is going to smart. _ But what other choices did she have?

Del made short work of stepping out of her shoes and socks, leaving them on the porch she waded onto the lawn, trying not to shudder as the icy wet tendrils of the grass grasped at her feet. The bottoms of her feet had begun to grow numb when she felt Damian's weight on her shoulder; He had used her, flipping over her as if she were nothing more than a statue standing their motionless in the garden.

The second his feet landed on the ground, he came at her. "You don't know when to quit, do you?"

A smart remark beckoned to fall out of her mouth, but the girl bit it down, forcing herself to bend or else get caught by that damn blade. _I have to get the blade away from him or I'm fucked. _ It wasn't about beating him, but unlike her father, or Dick, he wasn't going to call it quits at the slightest provocation. That's what she wanted. She wanted him to keep coming at her. Damian wasn't going to stop, and neither were the creatures that crawled out from Gotham's underbelly.

She knew this garden; in a few steps she was going to hit a birdbath. _One_…_two_… on three Del dropped to the ground, sweeping Damian's leg as her arms bent back, separating the top of the birdbath from its base. The blade pierced it, but just as the stone started to crumble, Del held fast to the largest pieces, twisting the sword free from her brother's grip as he tried to recover himself from falling. Delilah tossed the sword and stone remnants, rushing him when she jumped to her feet.

"Even without it, you're still no match for me."

He swung, she ducked, and seizing his head she kneed him as quick and as hard as she could before driving him back when she released him with a shove. _He has enough space to make a kick. _When he went to strike with a kick just like she hoped, she locked it to her side with an arm, trying not to think about how much it stung, but instead reacted by pushing down his shoulders while she kicked his free foot out from under him, dropping him to the ground.

When he rolled to his side, pushing off the ground to jump to his feet, he was smiling. It wasn't a comfortable thing to see. "He did teach you something after all." But it wasn't enough. Delilah knew that and so did he.

Damian was quick with his feet. She could block the first or the second kick, but by the third, even when she was blocking her head, it was enough to stagger her; he dropped to his hands, and kicked her feet out from under her.

Hitting the near frozen ground almost felt like concrete. She tumbled back and to her feet, throwing up her hands to block his fists just in time. He was backing her toward a large statue, before his advances pushed her too close, she turned, running at the statue, using it to flip herself over him, forcing them to trade positions. She was able to get a few good shots in with her fists before he suddenly launched at her, hitting her square in chest with both feet. Needless to say it knocked the wind out of her.

Del could barely hear Jax barking from inside the house, she was too focused on trying to duck under his legs when kicked, spun and kicked again. He was kicking so hard and so fast, she could hear the air whistling through his clothes, she had no choice but to slide back. Having a good amount of space, she round housed him, which he ducked. He ducked the second one, but however took the third. He then locked her leg just as she had done to him. _Oh, shit. _But the realization came too late, he kicked out her leg and she hit the ground yet again. This time he dove right on top of her.

They rolled. Damian snagged the sword, just as Delilah's fingers could reach the sheath that he must have tossed aside earlier. It was the only thing blocking the blade from her neck. The girl was trying to keep her lungs from freezing up on her as the dew began to soak through her shirt. She was working on locking his feet, getting ready to shove him to the side when the blade made contact with her neck. Del's eyes went wide.

"Why Sister, you look frightened."

Del could feel beads of blood rolling down her neck and into her hair, just as the morning was broken by the sound of shattering glass. The boy had no choice but to roll to his side as the doberman's body smacked into him. His teeth locked into the boy's shoulder.

"DOWN!" Del yelled, securing Damian's blade before he could use it on the dog. Jax let go, positioning himself to stand over the girl and she worked to sit up. In the sudden commotion, Delilah caught Dick's shadow out of the corner of her eye. She didn't even hear his feet hitting the ground when he came bursting onto scene. He went straight for Damian.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?! She's your sister!"

"Calm down Grayson, if I wanted to kill her I would have done it already." The boy said, nursing his shoulder with his hand. "Stupid mongrel."

"Why you little-"

"_Stop it_."

At the sound of the girl's voice, Dick stopped advancing. "I instigated it." Delilah told him, working her way to her knees. When Dick shot her a look, he found she wasn't even facing him. She had her attention on Jax.

"Why the hell would you do that?"

Finding nothing but a couple shallow cuts, Delilah felt her shoulders relax. "Good boy." She whispered, using him to help herself up to her feet. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, her whole body felt like a bruise.

"Unlike you or Dad, he doesn't quit when I start to struggle."

Damian paused at that, but said nothing as he slipped back inside the house, not even caring about the broken glass under his feet.

"This is _not_ what I meant when I said you needed to train. Jesus, Delilah! I don't even think the kid knows the difference between a fight and a sparring match."

"But it's exactly what I need." Delilah said, walking Jax back inside. She tried not to focus too much on Alfred's shock. "Alfred, could you get me the vet kit?"

"Of-of course, and what about yourself?" He asked, disappearing into a small room off of the kitchen. Delilah reached up, touching the cut on her neck. It was wet, but it wasn't deep by any means.

"I'll live."

"And what shape would you have been in if Jax hadn't broken through the window?" Alfred asked, shoving the pet supplies at Dick rather than handing them over to the girl. He had broken out the first aid kit anyway.

"I don't know…."

* * *

The second Alfred Pennyworth cleared the door into Delilah's wing; the boy took his chance, sliding in before it closed behind him. But of course, Pennyworth wasn't what one would call a fool.

"Please keep your hands and blades to yourself this time, Master Damian." The old man told him, not even bothering to spare the juvenile a glance as he made his way down the hall, leaving Damian to feed his curiosity.

The floor was warmed by the pools of sunlight that seemed to pour into the hall. Damian simply peeked into the rooms as he went. None of the rooms were large, but they were adequate and functional. An office, a library, a bathroom. He could only assume that her bedroom was at the very end of the hall, leaving only one room left to investigate.

Even before reaching the doorway he could hear something rattling. Damian slid into the room without notice, aligning himself along the wall by the door, just in time to see his sister release off of the high bar to create a layout and turn before catching herself back on the bar. One handed pirouettes, seamless flying straddles, and turns that she would suddenly throw into reverse. It was her connections back to the uneven bars that caused the rattling sounds he had heard. He was so busy watching her turn, twist and straddle the air that he didn't see Alfred move closer to him.

"She makes it look easy doesn't she?"

"You mean she makes learning from Grayson look easy."

Delilah made a clean dismount with a double backwards twisting somersault.

"Is it that hard for you to say you're impressed, Master Damian?" The butler asked, as they watched Grayson and Del high five one another. Damian didn't so much as utter a word.

"Might one suggest that a break is in order?" Alfred inquired, handing Delilah a towel and a bottle of water. "What time is it?" Delilah asked in breaths, trying to keep herself from guzzling the water too quickly.

"2 pm. Miss. I'll be attempting to rouse your father shortly."

"I've got to go. Dick, I'm sure you need to go home and sleep at some point." She said, dabbing off the thin sheen of sweat that had permeated on her face and neck.

Dick was giving a cockeyed grin. "Trying to get the hell out of Dodge before he gets up, aren't you?"

Delilah's lips pursed between sips. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm supposed to meet Sam in an hour."

Of course she wanted to get the hell out of there before her father awoke from his forced slumber. He'd be groggy, grouchy and wanting to know why the kitchen window was broken. She'd rather toy with the seedier side of Gotham than face his grumpy ass.

Alfred had one of his silver brows arched at her. "I must be hearing things, I was certain Miss Cleary's mother forbade you two from your escapades."

"Oh." Delilah's lips twisted into a devilish smirk. "You mean the conversation that you and I weren't supposed to hear." She amended. It forced Alfred to sigh. "I stand corrected. I assume no one in Dodge will be hungry?"

"I won't be. Sam's going to help me start going through Mom's things, and then we're going to the Java Junction. I'll probably grab something while I'm there. We're both seriously behind on homework." Del found herself holding her breath as the butler nodded. Yes. They were both going to meet at her mother's house. Yes, they were both going to stop at Java Junction. But only Sam would be staying there.

"Very well."

Dick however, did not seem to take the bait that easily. "Uh-huh."

"Hey, you're the one who always told me to pick and choose my battles."

Dick just shook his head. "Yeah, yeah." He slapped her on the shoulder. "I'll see you for practice. If you think you're sore now, you have no idea what tomorrow's going to feel like."

"I'm going to hate you all the way to regionals, aren't I?"

He just simpered at her before disappearing down the hall. With any luck, she wouldn't see him for the rest of the day. But of course with his departure, it only left her and Damian once again.

"I see you made it in here." She said, stepping out into the hall and weaving her way into her room, well aware that he was not that far behind her. "It was easy."

"Says the kid who put my computer on lockdown the first time."

He watched her riffle through clothes as he stepped into her room. To his credit he stayed glued to the walls with his hands behind his back, he was more interested in the pictures she had. Some were of her mother and a child he could imagine was a much younger version of Delilah. In the pictures with Dick and even their father, he could see her grow and change right before his eyes.

His sister however, paid no attention to him as she slipped into the connecting bathroom to change. He was still scanning her photos and books when she popped back out. "That's my favorite one with Dad." She said, as he picked up a round frame from the shelf. Someone had managed to use a camera and got him both in mid-laugh on a blustery afternoon. "He doesn't laugh or smile all that much." Indeed, Bruce Wayne didn't have much to laugh or smile about. "You don't keep pictures, do you?" She asked, as she stepped into her closet.

"Not many, no."

He peered at her as he crouched down to read the titles on the bottom shelf, it was then he could see the jagged scar that poked just out of the top of her tank. "Where did you get that scar?" he asked. Delilah, who was in the midst of rolling up a sweater to pull it over her head, paused. "Open heart surgery, when I was four."

He was still staring when she pulled the fabric over her head and started to pull her hair free. "And where did the ones on your hands come from?"

"The night my mom died." It was all she offered as her boots made small scuffing sounds on the floor. "You're welcome to barrow any of the books I have, just put it back when you're done." She said, sliding into a brown leather jacket that matched her knee high lace up boots.

"As if you have anything I would want to read."

"Suit yourself." She said, crouching down to retrieve the sword she knew was still tucked just into the bed frame. Damian was staring at the ivory white sheath the second it slid from its hiding spot.

"Where-"

"Your mother."

She picked it up and handed it to him, watching him unsheathe the blade. "She said it was a gift. I never told Dad that she left it."

"You never learned to use it?"

"No. C'mon you see how he is with me, you actually think he'd teach me? You can use it, just put the other sword back in the wall plague."

"She gave it to _you_!" he snapped. "It was a gift, you-"

"I already told you I don't know how to use it. What? Are you going to teach me then?" Did he think she was intentionally disrespecting his mother by not using such a gift?

The boy's face twisted incredulously. "Don't be ridiculous. You lack the discipline."

Delilah threw up her hands. "I've got somewhere to be, I don't have time for this." With that she marched off to her bathroom, listening to the door of the wing shut behind him. The sword was lying on her bed. The only evidence that he had been there at all was the empty slot on a shelf.

* * *

"Okay, now you have to spill, just what are you up to?"

Delilah juggled the packages she had found on the porch as she pushed her way into the garage. With no electricity, they were forced to use what was left of the daylight that spilled through the windows of the garage door. Sliding the boxes onto the work bench next to the rest of the arsenal she had slowly been collecting, the teen stopped to take a breath, Watching Sam's face as her fingers lingered over the items that were displayed on the table. The smoke bombs, Taser guns, throwing stars, and a whip; all weapons. "You actually know how to use one of these things?" She asked, carefully picking on of the sharp pieces of metal off the table.

Del took it out of her hand, watching the Sam's eyes widen when it whizzed through the air and embedded it's self in the top beam of the garage door slicing through the paper target that Del had placed some time ago.

"Jesus Christ."

"Sam, are you sure you want to help me?"

"Y-yeah."

But Delilah wasn't making a face, she wasn't teasing and it wasn't looking like she was going to break out into a smile any time soon.

"Are you positive? I don't want-"

"Woman, shut up and open the box."

So Delilah did, slowly pulling the black Kevlar weave suit from the box. There was also a yellow cape and cowl. _Thank you, Lucius thank you. _

"Oh, shit. You're not doing what I think you're doing…"

Delilah crouched down by the box, finding the matching balaclava and mouth guard. The key piece that would keep her supplied with a little extra oxygen. "Yes I am."

"Fuck, Wayne-Badger. You _are_ crazy. What the hell would your Dad do?"

"He can't know. No one can know." Delilah shot out, rising from her couch.

"You kidding me?! Of course not! You're the only interesting friend I have. Just tell me what I can do to help you."

Delilah slid her phone out of her pocket, wandering toward the bench as she pried it open, exposing the innards of the device. But there, among the wires and boards was a small round object that didn't quite belong.

"What's that?" Sam asked pressing in to get a good look.

"A tracking device."

The girl's face pinched. "Ooh, Daddy doesn't trust you all that much does he?" Delilah put the phone back together. "More like his insurance policy to know where I am if something goes wrong." Delilah told her. She had broken her phone last year and found the device, but instead of removing it and letting him know she found it, she used it to her advantage.

"Is he that worried that someone's going to kidnap you or something?" But then again she was the sole heiress to the Wayne fortune. "They've taken people worth a lot less. I need you to keep this with you at the café tonight." Delilah bent down, routing through the box until she found a small device that looked quite similar to a hands free phone. She tossed it to Sam. "Microphone." The girl was more than pleased to try it on. "Good, then I can talk to you without looking crazy."

Delilah held up the mouth piece. "Exactly, you'll just be a girl on the phone at a computer."

Sam ripped the headset off. She could hear Delilah talking through the earbud. But nothing seemed to be coming from Delilah herself. "The guard cancels all noise…so they won't be able to hear you…"

"Not unless I want them to." Delilah replied, removing the piece from her mouth. "I'm just wanting to test out the equipment tonight. So it'll only be for a couple hours."

"What about the Batman or Nightwing?" Sam asked, as she struggled to sit down by the open box, pulling out the gloves and boots.

"Avoidance. I need you to relay their locations if they're mentioned on the scanner. They'll turn me over to the police in a heartbeat. Imagine how well that would blow over."

Samantha had her head tilted. "Scanner?"

"Microphone is tied into a police scanner." Del added, though she didn't mention that she had her phone rigged so she could answer it. Or that she could pick up anything from the headset at the bat-computer.

"Geez, you've been plotting this for a while, haven't you? You've thought of everything."

Delilah just shrugged. "I'm hoping so." In the back of her mind she was running through several different contingency plans. It was just an equipment test, she wasn't looking to engage anyone or anything until she was sure everything worked up to par. What the fifteen year old didn't plan for was the fact the other side might just come at her first.

* * *

Java junction was on the corner of the same street that housed the Gotham PD. It wasn't unusual to see a few uniforms come and go for coffee or a bite to eat as they walked their beats or took their breaks. The café wasn't empty by any stretch of the imagination, but the girls settled on a small table with Sam's laptop, watching the crowd on the street thin as the daylight began to flee.

Delilah forced herself to eat a Danish and a down some water, trying to ignore the jitteriness of her nerves as the street lights came on. "Here we go." Del whispered to Sam, lifting her packpack from the ground as she slipped into the ladies room.

It was empty. Sliding into the largest stall, she made quick work of shedding off her clothes and working herself into the suit and her harness, she could feel the CO2 canisters weighing down by her hip, hidden from sight only by her cloak. The harness it's self was attached to a double cabled grappling hook. It would allow her to swing and maneuver, all the while powering her forward. It was going to take some balance to make if she used both at the same time.

Delilah quickly made an exit out of the window, after tucking her bag behind the toilet for Samantha to retrieve. The second her feet landed in the alley behind the café, She made a dash for the wall, squeezing the trigger of the grappling gun, it secured it's self into the wall, the fan made a faint whir as she rocketed up the wall. Ejecting the hook the girl hit the roof of the neighboring building, forcing her fall into a tumble to minimize damage.

"_So?" _

"It's a touchy system; I'm going to have to get my timing and balance just right."

"_Tanked on the first go didn't you?" _

"Let's just say, it's a good thing I don't have a fear of heights." She said, said charging across the roof top. She tried the grappler again, this time, aiming for a spot on the next building with her second cable as she released the first. At least this time she landed on her feet, albeit a bit hard.

"Landings are a little rough."

"You can control how much gas feeds through it right? Maybe you're just goosing it?"

Maybe she was on to something. Del leapt across the next building, feel her cape lift as if it were trying to help her float across. Had Lucius used some of the same material her father's cape was made of? Over the next few jumps, Delilah gave the grapplers no gas at all when she wanted to land, but let her gripped her cloak as it were a parachute. The landing came softer, even soundless.

"_I'm not hearing anything, something must be going right."_ Of course, Sam couldn't see Delilah grinning like a Cheshire cat. As the sound of gunshots rose over the cacophony of the city streets, the smile slipped. It reminded her just why she was out here in the first place. This wasn't play time.

"_Jeez, I can hear that from here." _

"Where are they?"

"_38__th__? Around the docks?"_

"I'm on 36th." As soon as the words came out of Del's mouth, she felt the gust of a low flying plane, making her to duck to the ground as the batwing zipped over her head. "Shit." She hissed, watching the black shape of a body drop from the plane just a few streets away. "Well, I know where Batman is."

Delilah quickly skirted the buildings and streets, trying to keep herself out of sight all the while trying to keep Batman in sight. The buildings lessened as the bay grew closer, giving way to shipping vessels and row upon row of warehouses. It was one such building that Delilah had perched herself on, watching Batman cling to a swerving vehicle. One second he was on the hood, the next, he was ripping bodies out of the cab through the windshield, jumping off just as the truck rolled. It was at time like this Delilah wished she could hear what he was saying.

With her hand resting on tin of the roof, the girl could feel the vibrations of something moving. Someone had landed just behind her. _Oh, fuck. _

"And just who are you?" The second Nighwing pulled himself from his crouch, Delilah was on her feet, flipping over the edge of the building. "Found Nightwing, or he found me." She said, as she landed hard on her feet. The second he came at her, she shot the grappling gun. It pierced a container just above Batman's head. He looked up from the man he was slamming against the wall. Just as she landed in his view, bullets began to spray everywhere. She looked down just in time to see the bullet splatter blood across his face. The man in his hands was dead, giving him no choice but to drop the body and take cover.

"_D! What's going on!?"_

"I don't know yet." She breathed, rolling to her side as the bullets stopped. She quickly sprang to her feet, fleeing quickly across the cargo containers, well aware that Batman and Nightwing were in pursuit.

"They think it was me!"

"_Get out of there!"_

"I'm trying!"

There's something to be said about the quiver of fear that rolled up Delilah's spine when Batman landed just a few feet away from her. _He's going to swing at me. My own father is going to swing at me._ When he did, she ducked, leaping up and kicking him back as she back flipped off of the container and on to the next row. There wasn't any time to worry over whether or not she would actually make it across.

As soon as her feet connected to something solid, she shot her grappling gun for the closest building, just as Nightwing slammed into her. "Oh no you don't!" _Oh yes I do._ She thought twisting as she pulled the trigger, freeing a leg from his hold she kicked him, trying not to recoil when her foot got him square in the face, just as she was ripped up the cable. _I'm so sorry Dick. _The last thing she wanted was to cause either of them harm.

As soon as she touched the concrete barricade of an empty parking garage, Delilah made a dash for it, leaping out the other side, launching a cable into a building across the street just as something wrapped around her leg. _Batman._ Her heart was beating just a little too quickly. Reaching up to her mouth, Delilah felt for the small switch around the mouth piece, relieved to feel the oxygen entering her mouth and nose. She quickly shot the second cable, forcing it to drag her closer to her mark with Batman in tow. The strain of his weight was almost unbearable. Knowing he had an anchor, she quickly fished a knife out of her harness, twisted and cut herself free. The second she set foot on the roof she was aiming for, she looked down, feeling her breath come out of her in a whoosh when she saw him dangling below on his anchor line. _Safe._

He was safe, but only for the space of a breath when something strikingly similar to a batarang cut through his cable. With Sam worriedly chatting in her ear, Delilah simply reacted and dove after him. She grabbed him by the glove, pulling one of her own grappling guns from her harness. She tried to thrust it at him before the wires went taut. If they went taut, she would be forced to hold his weight again. She wasn't sure if she, or her heart could pull it off. He managed to grab it, letting them both land safely on the ledge below.

Something told her to look up. The second she did, Delilah caught a red masked figure peering down at them. This had to be the Red Hood. She immediately went after him, leaving her father on the ledge, well aware that he couldn't use the grappling gun again now that it was no longer connected to the CO2 tank.

"Wait!"

But Batman's voice faded from her the second she ascended to the roof top where she had spotted him. The girl hit the ground running. _"D! Answer me!"_

"Busy!"

"_Are you okay?"_

As the man turned and shot at her, Del had no choice but to hit the dirt, behind a heavy pipe. One of the rounds ricocheted and made it into her shoulder.

"Not exactly." She managed, jumping over the pipe when he disappeared. She had just made it to the building's edge when he struck her out of nowhere. The force of the blow knocked her back, forcing her feet to skid in the gravel as she fought to stay upright. "A new face."

He was taller than she was for certain, and definitely outweighed her. Beneath the leather jacket he wore she could see something similar to her father's suit on his body. He wasn't just a regular street thug. She stepped back as he circled her, aware that he was treating her like prey to a predator. He lunged at her, forcing her to bend back when he swung. "You don't say much, do you?" She quickly grabbed his head, jumped up and kneed him. Putting her foot into his chest she launched off of him in a flip to put some space between them.

He automatically drew his gun. "Cute." When the bullets zipped by her, Delilah quickly tried to dodge them, digging out one of the throwing stars as she ducked for cover. She hit her mark the second they landed in his hands, driving him to drop the guns.

The girl dove for them, feeling his weight fall on her the second she got her fingers on them. Del twisted beneath him, highly aware how he reeked of polish and gunpowder. He was pushing her head over the edge of the roof top when she let the guns drop to the street below.

"You think you're funny don't you?" He asked, as Delilah struggled to make herself take slower breaths. _Don't panic. You know the way out of this, just don't panic. _He had a hand on her throat as he ripped away her cowl then her mask.

"Del."

Hearing her name come out of his mouth, Del was sure she stopped breathing entirely. He pulled his mask up with a hand, not daring to free her completely. Everything inside of her lurched. It was face she knew.

"Jason…" How was this possible? This couldn't be possible.

"You're all grown up now." He noted, squeezing down on her neck when he returned his hand back to her throat. "You decked Boy-Wonder in the face. Nice one. I've always wanted to do that."

_Think, Stupid, think. _ Locking his feet in with her own, she suddenly pulled his elbows into her body all the while popping up her hips at the same time; it was enough to throw his weight, enough to force him to the side. She popped up quick, jabbing him with a closed fist to the face as she jumped to her feet. "I'm not that little girl you knew…" She said, thrusting her heel on his nose before she quickly snapped up her mask and put it back in place.

She didn't wait for him to stir or recover, she leapt off the building, and using the grappling gun she made it to the ground, and made sure to stay there. "I'm on my way back."

"_Who was the male voice I heard?"_

"I'll have to explain later, things are seriously complicated right now."

Delilah walked slowly, becoming more aware of the bullet that was lodged in her shoulder as she skimmed the shadows of the next few blocks, trying to avoid traffic from cars and people alike. It gave her a new respect on just what it was her father really did. It was simply exhausting just to process it all.

The girl had just turned the corner, just as her arm was nailed by throwing stars. Someone hit her from behind, forcing her to slam into the wall. Peering up she could make out the shape of a very short hooded ninja. _Damian._ How long had he been following Batman and Nightwing?

"This night just keeps getting better." Del grumbled, biting back a groan as she ripped the stars out of her arm and threw them back at him. It was just like the little shit to dodge them and come right for her, brandishing a brand-new blade. She however didn't waste any time, she simply grabbed her Taser, dropping the boy like a stone when it latched onto his sword. _I told you, I don't have time for this. _She left him gift wrapped for her father to find.

* * *

"Thanks for getting bullet out."

Sam nearly choked on her coffee. "Was not the highlight of my night. How's the shoulder?"

"Hurts."

The crowd in the café suddenly rose to their feet, sending several patrons flying to the window. "Don't look now, but I think the caped crusaders followed you." Delilah stood up, trying to ignore her stiffness as she wandered closer to the window. _Or someone is checking up on me._ The second her eyes met with Batman's, he was up a building and into the darkness.

"Hey, your phone is going off."

Delilah wandered back to their table as some of the crowd spilled out into the street or lost interest completely. "Dad's texting me."

_Alfred is on his way. I want you home. NOW. No stops._

"He texts? That's scary."

"You have no idea."


	10. Dictators and Stalkers

**A/N:** Another early one. And yes, I went and adjusted the typos from the last one. Thanks for pointing them out. Sorry about that. When you stare at a particular piece long enough you sometimes miss some things. And yes! Bruce is extremely suspicious! As far as the Batmobile goes...I suppose pateince is a virtue?

* * *

It was never my intention to trap Sam in this crazy web that consumed out lives. And as selfish as it sounds, and I know it does, I'm glad that I had someone on my side. You can't uphold this life on your own. I think it's one of the hardest lessons any of us had to learn.

* * *

The second Delilah stepped foot into the foyer, her bag was ripped from her. "_Dad!_" She groaned watching him rifle through it right there on the spot. Of course, he'd find nothing but textbooks, notebooks and pens. She snatched it back when he seemed to find nothing in it of consequence. If he looked in the notebooks, he'd definitely know something was wrong. After all, they had Sam's name written in them, not hers.

"If you wanted to see what was in my bag, all you had to do was ask."

He seemed to relax at her words, closing his eyes as he shook his head. "I'm the parent; I don't need to ask for anything in this house." Cripes, he was moody. Trying to be careful with her shoulder, the girl slung the strap over her back. "Bad night?" He answered her with a slamming door as he made his way back down into the bat cave. "I hear ya." With that she made her way up to her room, slinging the bag on the bed. Del made quick work of the sweater, overly aware how her undershirt was sticking around her shoulder. Sure enough, the wound was bleeding again. She didn't even bother with a light as she routed around in her dresser for a clean, looser fitting shirt. Glancing in the mirror she caught someone's form standing behind her door. She immediately filled the room with lamp light.

"Damn it, Damian!" She yelled, marching across the room she threw the door open, "Out!" However, her little brother only kicked the door closed and wrenched her hand off the knob. Giving her arm a twist, it shed light on the angry red cuts that trailed up her arm. "That's what I thought."

Yanking her arm back, she turned back to the dresser. "Keep your mouth shut."

"How did you get the bullet?"

"The Red Hood." She snipped, watching the boy's face in the mirror. "He let you get that close? " He asked, turning his back so she could change shirts. What he didn't expect was for her to kick him against the door. Grabbing his arm, she twisted it into an arm bar, mashing his face into the frame.

"Did you know?!" Did you know this entire time?!"

"What? About you? It was a suspicion." He spat out against the door.

"No! About Jason! You lie to me, Damian, God, help you. Only the Lazarus pits have the ability to bring people back."

His green eyes were wide. "The experiment?" At those words, he was released, leaving his sister to pace back and forth across the floor. He only gave his neck and shoulders a pop. "My mother tried to bring him back to life. He was an emotionless vegetable that attacked on the slightest provocation. A failure."

"Oh, my God. Why?!"

Compared to Delilah's frantic arm movements and determined pacing, the boy was utterly still. "She thought it would win father's approval, if it turned out like she hoped."

"This is exactly why Dad didn't use the pits!" When she ripped the door open, Damian followed her.

"And just what exactly are you going to do?"

"Warn my father, he needs to know!"

"You do that, you're going to blow your own cover."

* * *

As Delilah popped down the steps two at a time, a part of her just wanted to yell out. _It's Jason. The Red Hood is Jason. _The words bubbled and lingered right there on her lips, but nothing would come out. She stood motionless, watching her father rewind and replay the moment that she jumped after him.

"Whoever they are, they didn't want to see you end up a stain on the street." Dick turned, realizing she was just standing there by the stairs staring. "Who..."

"We don't know."

_Play it off. Just keep calm and play it off. You can do this. It's not like you're going to hide it from them forever, just for now. _ "Holy crap! Dick, what happened to your face?"

Dick lightly touched his crooked nose.

"He got kicked in the face." Damian chimed in for him, slipping the man a grin as he moved around his motionless sister.

"Says the one who was knocked out cold and left hogtied on the sidewalk."

"An oversight." He sniffed, hopping up onto the platform where the costumes hung. He seemed to linger around Jason's suit. "You probably deserved it." Delilah shot out, biting back the urge to grin at him. She gravitated toward the grappling gun on the table. Her grappling gun. This brought a slew of new problems. Her system for moving around the city wouldn't be the same, and it wasn't like she could just steal it back. That would raise some red flags.

"What I don't get is, why shoot at us, and then try to run away?"

Her father had his hands folded as he pressed his elbows on the computer, just watching the clip over and over. It was if he was looking for something in that moment to explain things.

"They had a knife that was able to cut my lines. But I don't think they'd shoot at us, cut free, and then cut my line only to save me from falling."

"Two different people with ability to cut your lines? Not many weapons can do that." She said, easing herself onto a stool next to her father. _I'm lying. I'm lying to you, and I'm sorry._ When he glanced at her, she popped her eyes to the screen, praying she didn't look guilty as hell.

"No, not many."

Out of the corner of her eye, Del could see Dick moving toward the table. "You have to admit, it would take some serious skill to use a pair of cables, like you say. Are you sure they were using two at the same time? I mean I know you always set anchors but-"

"Yes. They cut one of their own cables from their harness and gave it to me."

"That would take some balance."

"Oh, a lackey like you could probably pull it off, Grayson." Damian sneered. Annoying Dick was turning out to be one of his favorite pastimes.

"Shut it, Damian."

Dick was turning the grappler over in his hand. "A trigger and a throttle?" He lifted the tube that was dangling from its end. "I wonder what they used to power it…"

"C02. I've been running checks on any large purchases for C02, but I haven't found any." _Because Wayne Enterprises bought them years ago, Dad. You'd have to look at your own company. _

It was then, her father turned his chair. Without warning, his fingers hooked around the collar of her shirt, pulling it down to reveal the long snaking cut around her neck. "Care to explain that? Or why Jax has cuts?" Hearing his name, Jax roused from the other side of her father's chair.

"A fight with a short, arrogant opponent."

"I would have won if your stupid dog hadn't attacked me." Damian fired back.

"He attacked you because you cheated."

Delilah tried not jump as her father's chair swung back, crashing to the ground when it tipped over. Jax never made a fuss when he or Dick sparred with the girl. It only meant one thing; the animal thought she was in danger. "You drew a blade on her?!" Del cringed when his voice echoed through the batcave, stirring the bats in a chattering frenzy.

Damian simply lifted his chin. "It would have been a fair fight if you had taught her how to use the sword. Grandfather always said to finish off your opponent."

"She's not some opponent. She's my daughter!"

"And I'm your son! If you would let me go with you, none of this would happen!" He cried, jumping over the banister of the platform.

"Don't _even_ spin it that way." Delilah may not have yelled but her words were heard. She knew by the way her father paused that he caught them. "I instigated the fight, and you obliged. You screwed up the match when you picked up the sword."

She may be a typical teenager, the kind who didn't want to get into trouble and would try to weasel her way out of it. But in the end, there were times you just had to take responsibility for your actions. Batman was looking right at her. "Jax broke through the kitchen window and attacked Damian, when he had me in a compromised position."

"Go to your room, and wait for me."

Delilah quickly ducked for stairs, cutting by the boy. "Nice try, but I'm not going to let you guilt your way into being Robin."

"Now Delilah Bae!"

Delilah didn't say another word, with Jax now just a few steps behind her, she disappeared into the house.

* * *

When Bruce, eased his way into her bedroom, the minutes had slipped into hours. It was an ungodly hour, but he knew she'd still be awake. The girl was sitting cross legged on the bed, a stack of envelopes, spilled out in front of her, with Jax all but sprawled out against her.

Her eyes looked up from the envelope in her hands and landed on him. "I know you're mad." She said letting the piece of paper fall into her lap, as he grabbed her computer chair and stat himself down across from her. "What were you thinking?! He could kill you." The words were simple and to his own horror, the truth. His son had no scope of what was right or wrong.

"I just- I didn't think-"

"No, you didn't."

"Ouch."

He was leaning with his elbows on his legs, his chin resting on his folded hands. "Truth, hurts Del."

"Siblings are supposed to argue and fight."

He took the envelope from her, forcing her to pay attention to him. "Normal siblings, but not ones that were raised by assassins."

"Touché." Delilah said with a shrug, wincing when she realized just how badly that hurt. "He almost handed my ass to me. Again."

"More like your head."

"Hey, I did make him eat dirt a couple times. I _can_ hold my own." She said, snatching the envelope back from him.

"You almost didn't-" The word hung there for a moment. "That shoulder is really bugging you, isn't it?" _He can read your body language._ "It's sore. I smacked it pretty good when me and Damian were tussling around, and then practice with Dick didn't help. I just pulled a muscle." _If he looks at my shoulder, I'm so done._

"You stopped by the café. Want to tell me what that was about?"

He stole the letter back from her. "What's this?" Delilah could have rolled her eyes. Now he was evading her questions. She watched the lines in his face relax when he turned it over, showing the scrawling P written on the cover.

"I'm surprised you don't recognize your own handwriting." She said softly. He opened it, peering over the envelope at her. "Where did you get these?"

"They were in the safe…"

Without so much as a word, her father stood and scooped up the envelopes. He didn't offer her an explanation as he moved from her wing to his office with her in tow. She knew better than to ask. Wiggling her toes into the plush carpet of the office, she ambled over to the mantle, staring up at her grandparent's faces while he rummaged through the cabinets behind his desk. Only when he pulled a stack of envelopes from the depths did she wander her way back to him.

"You're kidding me."

"No I'm not."

Delilah eased herself into a chair by the desk, watching him put the letters in order. All he seemed to do was peek inside and read a line or two. It was as if he knew them by heart. He went to shove them toward her, but stopped. "Wait a second." He quickly pulled a couple out, and put them and the piece of cloth back into the cabinet. If Delilah didn't know any better, she'd say her father might have been blushing. "I'm sure you could do without reading those."

He held them out to her, but just as she reached out to accept them he yanked them back. "I catch you and Damian squaring off like that again; I will confiscate these so fast your head _will_ spin." Grounding would never work on the likes of her. But holding something back about her mother, now that was another story.

"Yes, sir."

He let her have them. Watching her eyes scan the sticky notes that all but covered the first envelope. "Seriously? You guys have a post-it note war?"

Her father's lips shaped into a very small, very subtle smile. She could tell by the way it caused his eyes to crinkle just ever so slightly. "That's how this whole mess started." He said, gesturing to the tower of letters. "That and three large coffees down the front of my shirt." With that he purposely squeezed her on the shoulder. "Now go to bed before Alfred starts slipping you drugs too."

Delilah slipped out of the chair, plopping a kiss on his scruffy cheek, she scrambled for the door before he could change his mind. "Bed. No letters tonight."

"Night, Dad." She barley heard him answer her back as she dodged Alfred in the hall. She pressed her lips to the envelopes. "Thanks, Mom. You helped me dodge a bullet." Well…sort of.

* * *

Somewhere in the hour of four in the morning, Delilah thought she heard the squeak of her door. A part of her wanted to roll over and ignore it. That was of course, until someone started to bounce on her bed.

"Yo. Up. Now."

Dick. The girl groaned into her pillow, lifting her head to glare at the alarm clock. "Dick, it's 4:30. Go away." Five hours sleep was not enough. There was brief moment when her brain entertained the thought that he just might get up and leave her alone. That dissipated the second he had Jax sticking his cold nose in her ear and licking her face.

"Traitor."

"Your father wants you up. Do you really want him coming in here instead?"

The girl flung the blankets back at that. "Oh, fuck no!" With that Dick and Jax both vacated the room. "Ten minutes!" He called. Ten minutes? Ten minutes till what? Delilah flopped back on her bed. Oh, Jesus, her punishment hadn't even begun.

"Why do girls take so long?" Damian wanted to know.

"To drive us crazy."

"Hey, you said ten; it's been six and a half." Delilah quipped, as she came down the stairs. She wasn't sure what to think when she saw her father in shorts and a sweatshirt. Jax was sitting by his leg, holding his own leash. "I thought there was this thing in the constitution against cruel and unusual punishment? You know… eighth amendment?"

She felt something crawl up her spine when her father's lips twitched. "That's the constitution. It's a dictatorship in this house." Oh, son of a bitch. Alfred quickly offered the girl her medication, and a bottle of water. "Why are they so full of piss and vinegar this morning?" She asked, trying to swallow as many pills down as she could.

"B12, Miss."

"Oh, fantastic. If they come back without me, please send a search and rescue team."

Alfred seemed to simper at that. "On speed dial."

* * *

Delilah tried to think nothing of it when she took the end of the leash. She and Jax ran every morning, rain or shine. Dick joined in if he was there early enough…but her father? She eyed the back of his sweat shirt, watching the hood bounce with the sway of his movements. She peered over her shoulder at Damian. "What the hell?" She mouthed. But the boy literally just shrugged at her. "Did you tell?" He shook his head.

When she felt Dick take the leash, she stared at him. "Go. I don't think Jax can keep up at that pace for that long." Delilah looked at the gap her father had created. He was right; it would be cruel to keep Jax at his pace. "Care to tell me what's up?" she breathed, trying to ignore the bite of the October air. But even Dick just shrugged. "Liar." She accused, putting in her ear buds, before slowly and surely bringing herself to her father's side. When Damian tried to catch up with them, Dick held out his arm. "Wait. Let them go. You have no idea how long this has been coming."

_He knows. He knows, he just can't prove it. _

The thought made all warmth leave her face. "Shouldn't you be back there with Jax?" He asked, his voice barely breaking over the sound of his shoes on the pavement. "No." Delilah said, watching one manicured yard pass, then another. "I'm right where I'm supposed to be." With that she started to pull away from him. What Bruce couldn't see was Dick grinning like a Cheshire cat when Wayne shook his head at her. He could push Delilah all he wanted, but what Dick knew, was that no one pushed the girl harder than herself. "There's no way, you can keep that pace Del."

"Don't bet me on it! Remember you're the one with money. I have nothing to lose."

Was he laughing? Seriously laughing? Dick was the one shaking his head now, watching Bruce as he caught up to the girl. He knew that she would slow for a few minutes but then she'd be right back at that stride. She was trying to make sure she didn't burn herself out.

"Competitive aren't they?"

"Are you just now noticing that?" Damian sniffed, keeping his pace behind Grayson. "What's her point? What could she possibly gain?"

"That she doesn't need him to fight her battles for her. She has his love, make no mistake; it's his respect she wants."

Damian shot him a miffed look. "You got all that…from this?"

"Dude, this has been going on for years. There's a lot more to your father and sister than you know."

Several miles in, Dick eyes caught Bruce's hand circling in the air, he was telling them to start heading back. "What about them?" Damian asked, as Grayson forced him to turn around. "Let's just hope they come back in one piece instead of pieces."

The silence between them was maddening. It didn't matter that there was music humming in her ears, or that there were crickets hopping in front of them like the suicidal insects that they were. _It's your own conscience. _She chided to herself.

"I didn't expect you to last this long."

"I'm tougher than I look." She breathed, turning her head to see the pink ribbons of sunlight cut across the sky. He looked that direction but only for a moment, before he slowed and stopped completely. Delilah slowed herself and paused, watching him turn toward the ocean.

" I know." He said, giving Del nothing but the side of his face. _C'mon, Dad. Just ask me. Just ask me, I'll tell you everything!_ What came from his mouth wasn't what she expected. "I wish you didn't have to be."

Delilah could feel the winter wind working through her sweat soaked hoodie. Now that she wasn't moving, her body was losing its warmth. Dick was right, not that she'd ever admit that one aloud. "Dad.." Delilah felt herself shiver in the space of the silence. The words were right there, but they didn't come out. God, he knew. Why didn't he just come out and say it? Why couldn't she?!

"I don't do it just because I want to, or I just want to get on your nerves, or prove a point. I feel like I have to." At that moment she knew she wasn't just talking about pushing herself to the brink. If anyone knew what it was like to be driven into doing what felt right or just, it had to be him.

But he only nodded. "Alright, Kid." Delilah wasn't sure what that meant. The long silence back did nothing to quiet the over whelming uncertainties. Coming back into the house, the warmth made her flesh tingle, it was the kind of feeling that relived a person and brought them pain all at once. The girl flopped on the stairs, afraid that her body would melt right there for sure. Her father simply stepped over her.

"Gi. I want you in the gym in five."

"What?!"

"Dictator says. Now move it."

"Evil Dictator, more like."

"Clock's ticking!"

"Fuck sticks." She hissed as she laid there staring up at the ceiling. Just what was his deal today?

"I heard that."

"No you didn't." She yelled, peeling herself off the stairs. Well, at least her muscles were nice and lose. All the better for him to beat in.

* * *

As Delilah and her father circled around each other, it started to make sense just what he was up to. Every move he had made was the same as last night. He was testing her limits, or trying to push her into a confession so he didn't have to ask. _Watch that foot. He gets you to the floor, you're in trouble. _

The room echoed with the sound of his foot connecting with her glove when she moved to block her face. _C'mon Old Man, kick high._ When he did, the girl dropped down, kicking out her father's foot, he didn't miss a beat when he hit the mat and it turn swept at her. Delilah jumped into a back handspring missing it just in the nick of time. She had landed in a crouch, just as he jumped to his feet.

"Oh. So is this how it's going to go? You're as jumpy as he is." He said giving a slight nod to Dick as he leaned against the wall. He seemed to be enjoying this just a little too much.

Delilah couldn't help it. She grinned at him. "Then you should know how to put me down. How come you haven't done it yet?" She breathed, focusing on blocking his kicks with her feet.

"Okay, Smartass, have it your way." He blitzed her. She was so focused on meeting his fists with her gloves, that when he kneed her it knocked her down a peg. When she hit the mat with a thud, she tucked and rolled back, trying to duck when her father's leg flew over her head. Unlike all of the times before, he wasn't relenting, he wasn't going to stop and let her breathe. She caught the foot with her gloves, jumped and kicked his leg out. When he went down, he managed to grab her arm as he kicked her legs out from under her. Delilah landed right on her ass. He was up before she could even think to roll. He grabbed her by the collar, holding a fist back from her face. Then he just dropped her.

For a second the room was filled with the chorus of ragged breaths. But he reached down, grabbed her hand and helped her to her feet. "Do you know what you did wrong?" He asked, turning to accept the water that Alfred had brought them. Delilah put her hands on her knees, bent over and took a breath. "Yeah." She said straightening herself, catching the bottle when her father tossed it to her. "I picked a fight with Batman." There was a brief moment where she thought her father was smirking. "No. You got cocky."

"And then I got knocked on my ass."

"That's normally what happens."

Bruce eyed Damian who was sitting patiently on the floor. He didn't even look amused. "Give me ten minutes."

"Yes, Father."

Delilah looked from the boy to her father. "You _are_ full of piss and vinegar today. Alfred, don't give him anymore B12. He's starting to freak me out." She said flicking her father right on the nose. Something he used to do to her when she was knee high to a June bug. Not that she was much taller now. He popped that water bottle out of her hand and suddenly struck. His fist hit her bare hand, just as the water bottle came spilling down on her. She had no choice but to slide back. She turned, forcing Dick to jump out of the way when she ran and the wall and flipped over her own father. The second she hit the floor, she got him with and elbow to the head.

He swung right around with that fist forcing her to duck, but just as she did, his other fist got her square in the gut. Delilah doubled over, but forced herself to drop. She kicked his legs out from under him and then side rolled so she wouldn't get his body when he landed on his rump with his back to the wall.

Del worked herself to her feet as Bruce tilted his head against the wall. "Good girl." He managed when she grabbed his hand and helped him up. "You always taught me to expect the unexpected. How's the cheek?"

Her father rubbed his cheek where her elbow had landed. "Fine. How's the gut?"

"Well, I'm not curled up in the fetal position so that must account for something." With that her father simply patted her on the back, making sure to slap that shoulder for good measure. Leave it to him to get the last word in…so to speak.

"You're not sticking around to see Damian get the crap beat out of him?" Dick yelled to her when she popped over a pressing bench and hopped to the door. "No. School in an hour. Record it for me!"

That had Wayne at the door. "Excuse me?"

"School, Dad."

"No."

Delilah groaned. "_Dad_. I've missed the entire week almost. I need to at least go make up the test I missed and pick up my homework." When he just stared at her, she shifted her weight from foot to foot. "After what happened you really think the school is going to let me go anywhere without a security guard?"

"I want you here by lunch."

"Yes, Sir."

Dick looked a little miffed. "You're actually going to let her go alone?" He asked watching the girl haul ass down the hallway.

"No, you're going to go get her."

* * *

Delilah made her way into the cramped hall, dodging and edging around the bodies in pleated skirts and slacks. "That's not regulation." Delilah looked down at her black boots and jeans, then back up at the leggy blonde. "Well, I'm glad to see you know the difference." Delilah said, glancing at the girls who giggled behind their hands. "You don't, apparently." Oh, this was normal. To Del's misfortune, even in a school of socialites, her name was one of the biggest on campus. And what Delilah had learned was, the bigger the name, the bigger the target, especially if you didn't play to the same song and dance as everyone else.

"No, I just don't care. There's a difference."

"You think you can do whatever you want just because you're a Wayne."

Delilah pursed her lips. "Sweetie, I don't _think_ I can do whatever I want. I _know_ I can."

Without another word, Delilah spun around and continued down the hall, ignoring the sudden shrieks of gossip. If her Dad ever heard her talk that way…he'd kill her. She found Sam waiting against the wall.

"Boy, Carlotta's squealing to her friends right now, I can hear it from here. ' Did you hear how that bitch talked to me?' "Del felt her lips curl as Sam imitated the girl.

"She'd shit bricks if she knew the boots came from Macy's." Delilah grumbled, dropping a bag by Sam's feet.

"Delilah Wayne shops with the lower crust!" Sam exclaimed, expanding her hands in the air as if it were a headline. "I could see the article now." Sam let the bag in her hand drop to the floor right next to its matching cousin, completing the bag swap with none the wiser. She then reached down and grabbed the paper that was sitting on top of her books. "Did you see this?" She asked, thrusting the paper at Del.

Someone had managed to take a shot of Batman in mid fall. **Batman saved by unknown vigilante! **

"You didn't tell me you saved Batman's ass!" Sam whispered excitedly. Delilah only looked at her, but then her eyes fell back to the picture. "I-I had to, I couldn't just let him..."

Delilah felt someone take up the wall beside her, but she didn't look up. "Crazy, isn't it?" The girl peered up at Timothy Drake, He had his foot against the wall and his eyes down at the paper in her hands. "Y-yeah...crazy."

Sam peered around the girl. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Sam this is Timothy Drake, Drake, Samantha Cleary." Delilah said quickly, pulling herself away from the wall.

As soon as the bell rang, Del wandered to her class, the paper still in her hands. She didn't even look back at the two. Tim looked at her, and then looked at Sam. "Was it something I said?" He asked, watching her slip into the classroom.

"I guess you haven't known her for very long. She doesn't look at Batman like he's crazy. He saved her life once. She takes him seriously."

* * *

It wasn't Tim that caught her off guard. It was the photo. Now the adrenaline had long since faded, it was clear just how close she came to letting him fall, letting her father fall. Even with the article stuffed into her bag, she couldn't dismiss the nagging thought. It didn't make her trig exam any easier.

"_Students, remember that the pole challenge is set up in the north field. Please exercise all caution, and good luck. Remember the first male and female students to make to complete the challenge will be exempt from their mid-term!" _

"Hey! Are you going to try the pole challenge?" Sam asked the second the class burst open. Delilah was trying to ignore the security guard that was trailing her from a few bodies away. The school had posted one in the last two classes she'd been in. "What is it?"

"Woman! This is so up your alley how could you not know?! Every year they erect a pole on the track field. They give you nothing but weights and straps to climb to the top. A lot of people just tank."

Delilah clenched her teeth, choking on a groan when someone pressed on her shoulder, jumping in front of them. "Oh come on, Wayne." She could have cursed Tim as he turned away and began to make a bee line through the crowd. "You know what? He's not that bad to look at." Sam said, as the girls watched him dart out the front door.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Sam snorted. "Liar."

* * *

Delilah craned her neck, to look at the top of the pole that stood wearily in the middle of the field. It seemed roughly the size of a telephone pole. Of course, telephone poles didn't have nets waiting to catch you if you fell.

"Everyone listen up!" Her eyes snapped to the potbelly toting coach. "If you are participating, select your weights from the table. Pick up some straps from the bin beneath it! Choose them wisely. Then stand in line and wait to be harnessed. Yes, there are nets, but we would like to get everyone safely to the ground. Don't be horsing around."

Delilah had her hands on her hips watching the jocks laugh and joke. One by one they'd pick the smallest weights they could, hoping to keep from being weighed down as they tried to climb, but one by one they'd slip and fall and end up riding the zip line right back down to earth.

Tim, was still looking the weights over when Delilah finally approached the table. They all ranged in size. But all were flat and rounded out in the shape of discs. "Going for the big guns, huh?" Tim asked, watching her test out the larger weights "They're not just a part of the obstacle…" She said, as she picked her set. "They're tools."

She passed the kids as the huddled, shivering and jumping around in their gym clothes. "Wayne? Are you sure?" The coach asked her, as she stepped into the harness, letting the staff adjust it to her body. The school was well aware of her condition. "Yes. I'm not lifting anything heavier than my own body weight." It was the only cardinal rule she followed.

She could hear her classmates whispering and giggling as she approached the pole, weaving her way around the nets to reach the base. "Okay Wayne, we've laughed enough." Pike Jested. But Delilah wasn't paying him any attention. She wrapped her arms around the pole, feeling the weights wrap around each other she pulled, testing to see if they would hold. When they did, she put one foot on the beam, then another, sliding the weights up a little at a time. "Look at that, she's already higher of the ground than you were!" They were laughing. _Focus. Just keep going._ Her shoulders were on fire. It was enough to make the tears of reach wet her lashes, but the girl marched on, forcing the weights up and scaling a few steps at a time. The chattering below her had faded, leaving the wind to bite and numb her ears. For a split second she thought she heard the whirling sound of metal slicing through the air, when the harness ripped, and the objects stuck into the wood, Delilah had her answer. Her foot slipped, leaving her to hang there as the harness began to shift down.

"Hold on, Wayne, we'll get you down. Stay right there." Del peeked over the side, realizing she was more than half way up, the ground was further than she thought. Forcing her fingers to reach for the metal pieces, she yanked them from the beam. Glancing in her hands, she knew exactly who these belonged to. Jason. She pulled her hip up, to work them into the pocket of her gym shorts.

"Okay, Jase." She spat, wiggling, so the harness would just fall off completely. Looking over the field there was nothing there but an empty set of bleachers. He had to be there somewhere, he was watching. She heard the harness hit the ground.

"Stay still!" The coach yelled.

"Oh, bullshit! Get your ass up there! Don't you quit now! "

Delilah was grinning, realizing the entire crowd was now in riot of whistling and yelling. Leave it to Sam to get everyone going with her sailor mouth. Had she not been looking down she might have missed the shape of Dick's body standing on the skirts of the fray. Taking a deep breath, the girl pulled her feet back into position and slowly worked her way up. Everything ached. But she reached the bell that sat near the top, she grabbed that chord and slammed it, letting it echo across the field. The small crowd of students erupted. But the girl didn't let go. She pulled herself over the bell and to the top, working herself to sit on the flat surface. She ripped the straps off, tossing the weights, letting them clank together as they landed in the net below her. The teen worked herself to her feet, scanning the bleachers across the field for movement. Someone, someone was sitting there on the top row.

She did what any gymnast would do. She presented gracefully and then let herself free fall backwards into the net behind her.

"Jesus Christ!"

"I got the whole fucking thing on video!"

"Dude, that was awesome!"

Delilah worked herself out of the net. The metal in her pocket clinked together." Who got it on video?" She asked Looking eyes with a blonde haired boy when he held out his phone and shook it. "I was going to send out into the Twitter-verse." He told her. "One, I'd like a copy. Two. Can you throw a 'Wayne' tag in it?" The kid looked a little surprised but he grinned at her. "Done and done. Check your student e-mail."

Sam hugged her. "Oh, you crazy ass! You know you know the PR department at Wayne Enterprises is going to pick up on that right? Your Dad's going to see it."

"That's exactly what I want."

Delilah watched curiously as Dick approached her. He had that wiry look on his face. "I give it a 9.8"

"Oh, please," Sam chimed. "That was a 10."

"Dick, _this_ is Sam." She said pulling the girl in front of her. "He's Dick."

"And _why_ is she saying it like that?" Sam asked as she shook Dick's hand.

"You don't want to know. But it's good to finally meet you." He said jamming his hands in his pockets. "Hey, you ready? You have practice remember?"

"You have practice today? Oh you're evil." Delilah's lips twitched. Sam had wanted to see one of her practices for ages now. "Well, if you come with, you can see my practice and we can work on your independent study." She looked up at Dick. "If you don't mind… I mean."

"Fine by me." He said with a shrug. There was a reason for this, he could feel it.

"Let me call my Dad and see what he says." Of course she'd call her father instead. Her Dad was a little too obliging to bend to Delilah's will. The second she'd mention that she'd be going to Wayne Manor for the first time ever, her father would be sold. It was her mother that they were avoiding.

Delilah watched the girl run across the field for her things.

"What's wrong?"

Del pulled out the weapons that were in her pocket and handed them over. "This is what cut the harness. There was a glimmer of hope that maybe, maybe she'd be wrong. But the look on his face said otherwise. "You recognize them, don't you?"

"Yeah…they belong to the Red Hood." He said sliding them into his pocket. He was looking at her as if he had something important to say, but her mouth opened first.

"What's really going on, Dick? What's Dad's deal?"

He seemed to be looking beyond her, forcing Del to take a peek as Tim Drake slowly inched his way up the pole. "I told your Dad about our arrangement."

"Dick!"

"He was happy to reject it, trust me it took some persuasion." He crossed his arms. "But now, I have something to ask you." There was one moment when the girl would have been happy or at least relived to spill her guts. Now was not one of those moments.

"The mute last night. That was you, wasn't it?" When her eyes went wide he sighed. "I know your moves, Del. Some of them came from me." Delilah was looking at her shoes, but then she looked right back up. "Does Dad…"

"He's suspicious, and has nothing to physically prove it. I don't think he wants to believe it's you." He touched his pocket. "You knew what these were, and where they came from, didn't you? This is a problem. It means he somehow knows who you are and he's stalking you."

"I had my suspicions, something like that cut Dad's cable last night. You just confirmed it for me. Dick-" But he held his hand up to stop her. Sam was running back in their direction. "Later. We'll talk about it later." _I know who he is too_…but the words just would not come out. _And so do you._

.


	11. Sam

**A/N:** Here we go again. Thank you for the reviews you guys. And no, I don't mind at all if you spot something that needs to be fixed. It's actually quite a help to me. I had someone message me, asking me where the romance was...it's coming I promise, though some of it will be coming from some unexpected places. All good things come to those who wait.

* * *

"I don't know about this, Alfred." I pressed my hands into the plaid fabric of my skirt, as if it would instantly dry my sweaty hands. The girl I spotted in the review mirror was flushed. Small wisps of hair had started to fall from the delicately braided updo, but maybe her eyes were what gave her away. They were wide and wild, a shade of blue that world seemed to recognize. Everyone was able to see bits and pieces of my father in me now; I just wished I could have acted like him in that moment.

The car stopped moving, but Alfred didn't budge. Not at first. He simply turned to me. "You've been begging your father for how bloody long now? Don't tell me you're afraid. Where is Delilah Wayne, and what have you done with her?"

The words made my lips twist, but only for a second. He was right. My life had been all but confined to the manor. And when I did venture out into the world, my father was not more than an arm's length away from me. School for me, was private teachers and tutors. They came and went quickly. I can't say I was a very good student, I wasn't. I was a holy terror, unleashing my pent-up curiosity on them.

Even when the world learned of the little girl that lived at Wayne Manor, Dad still kept me, guarding me from the new threats my existence brought. He had threatened to send me to boarding school once, but quickly dismissed the idea. No school was really prepared to deal with the kind of attention the Wayne name drew, and he didn't want me out of his reach. I knew what that meant. Delilah Wayne, AKA, 'Ransom Fodder'. It's isn't like that never happened. It just hadn't happened to me…yet.

I looked up at the towering arches of Gotham Prep, watching the kids in matching uniforms as they scattered across the green. I begged and pleaded, and when that didn't work I begged and pleaded some more. You can only stand to hide from the world for so long. I had my volunteer work, the long days at the office with Dad. (Or Lucius, when Dad slept those days off in the penthouse.) Thanks to Dick, I had the gymnastics, but I only seemed to leave the house for the rare team meeting or a competition. I just wanted something normal.

"You stuck it out for quite some time." So long that he actually caved, or got so fed up with me he'd let me have just what I asked for. Only problem was, I never thought it would have been that hard. I bet he did.

"You finally got what you wanted, and now look at you. Shall I take you home then, Miss?"

"No!" I bit my lip when the word left me louder than I anticipated. "No, no thank you." I said more quietly. I listened to Alfred's shoes on the pavement as he walked to my door. The second he stepped out, people had turned, teachers and students alike, both staring toward the car.

As soon as I was out of the car, I could feel the morning sun on my back. Alfred reached up and adjusted my tie. "There's that Wayne stubbornness that I know." He said quietly. "Chin up, now. You'll do just fine."

"Thank you, Alfred." I whispered, unsure if he even heard me.

"Try not to send too many of them running for the hills."

Now I was giving him a full smile. "I can't make any promises."

"There she is."

* * *

I learned quickly that as nervous as I was, they seemed more nervous to meet _me_. The halls would quiet into whispers. The crowds would break up to let me through. Well most of them. A girl came backing out of class with a stack of books nearly piled to her nose. I couldn't apply the brakes fast enough and she never saw me. We both hit the ground as books went toppling down and paper went scattering across the hall. In the second it took for the school to hold their breath, there was panic.

"Oh, my! Miss Wayne, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." I said quickly trying to brush off the crowd before they closed in too tightly. I rubbed my palms on my skirt as I looked down at the other fallen girl, the girl no one seemed to really fuss over. "Are _you_ okay? I asked, quickly picking up her glasses and handing them to her. The second my face came into focus, she looked horror stricken. "I'm- I'm okay." She said quickly, hustling to grab her books. I started picking up the loose pieces of paper.

"Oh, Wayne, don't worry about the little pauper she'll be okay."

Pauper? I peered over at the long haired blonde who had bent down to tap me on the shoulder. "You have first period Latin don't you?"

I nodded, tapping the papers in my hand to even them out. I handed them to the girl in the glasses. She thanked me, turned tail and disappeared down the corridor. "That's great, so do I." I followed Carlotta Van Helton and her trio all the way through lunch. The more they spoke, the more out of place I felt.

"You know that bitch spilled her coffee on my Louis Vuitton's?" I guess I didn't look horrified enough. "I can only imagine the kind of things you have in your closet Delilah." All eyes at the table were on me. I poked at my chicken with my fork. It wasn't at all like Alfred's. Designers sent me things constantly, all in hopes I would be caught wearing their name. But trend setter I was not. You kinda have to be seen to be one of those. "I end up donating most of my stuff." I said, giving up on the food all together.

They squealed and giggled over their fantasies about what my father's money could buy and frowned at me when they learned that I hardly spent my allowance. I didn't hang out at all the posh places and clubs, and seemed to pity me when I explained that I had never really gotten the chance. I was happy to talk about my dog, my music, the gymnastics and the volunteer work. They lost interest, interest in me anyway.

"I hear your Dad was dating the Prima Ballerina from the Gotham Dance company."

"Why couldn't I be older?! Sorry, Delilah, but you're Dad's hot."

I wanted to crawl under the table and slither out the door, but I caught the girl in the glasses walking to an empty table.

"Who is she?" I asked. The simple question forced them all to stare. Carlotta waved her hand at me. "Oh, Sweetie, don't even worry about it. She's the charity case." I must have been making a face, because they all started to laugh.

"She's your charity case actually, well, your Dad's. She was the award winner for the Martha Wayne Youth foundation Scholarship." I watched the girl curiously; she had a book laid out on the table, not even aware of us at all. "She should be D's minion."

That got Carlotta to turn toward the girl's table. "Hey, Samantha! Your Mistress is done with her plate, why don't you throw it away for her? You owe her that much."

The girl looked up from her book. When she didn't move, Carlotta kept going. "Well? Come on. She's waiting." The girl closed her book and oh so slowly started to stand.

I was done. "Knock it off." My voice was low, but it was enough to silence them. Carlotta simpered trying to smooth me over as if I were a wrinkle. "Oh, now, D, you do know she's way below your social circle right? I mean, she shouldn't even be here really." The girl said with a sniff.

I was up. "She got here because of her grades, not because her daddy had to make a call, which is more than I can say for any of us."

I made my way to the last table and sat.

"You don't have to stick up for me. You don't even know me." The girl said, looking over her glasses at me.

"I guess you don't know me either, because yes, I do." I held out my hand to her. "Delilah Wayne."

She eyed me suspiciously. "I know." Of course, the whole world knew. But she sighed. "You shake my hand you can kiss your popularity goodbye."

"Good. I don't like crowds anyway."

The girl seemed to smirk at that. "You're in the wrong family with that kind of phobia."

"I know, I'm so screwed."

She laughed, giving my hand a shake. "Samantha Cleary."

* * *

Samantha kept herself only a few steps behind Delilah Wayne, eyes wide and wandering as they trailed through the house, making a beeline for her room. "I know the feeling." Delilah said quietly, feeling the sunlight flicker across her skin as they passed the windows of her hall. "I thought it was a castle." Sam made a sound caught between a choke and a snort.

"I was four, come on."

"Are you kidding? It's close enough." Her eyes cut to her hand as Del snagged it, making quick to write a five digit code on her hand with an ink pen. The girl's dark eyes squinted behind her glasses. "For the door?"

"Yeah, everyone has their own ID. My computer tells me who comes and goes." She explained stopping at the double doors of her room. "Okay, Sam…I know you don't like dogs."

At the sound of the word _dog_, Sam touched her arm. Somewhere beneath the sleeve of her blazer there were the white scars of canine teeth tracking up her arm. "Doberman, right?"

"Yeah, but he can spend some time with Alfred or Dad if he bothers you." She said quickly, watching the girl squint her eyes and shake her head as if she was shaking off the lingering memory. "Just open the door." She said at last.

The doors opened revealing the sunbathed room. The Doberman was stretched out in the middle of Delilah's massive bed like he owned it. Seeing the girls he worked himself to the floor, stretching as he made his way to his owner. Sam was shaking. "He's not going to hurt you." Delilah said gently, rubbing Jax on the head. "Sit, Boy."

When he did, Sam extended her trembling hand out to the creature fighting the urge to rip her hand back when he tried to lick her fingers before they made contact with his short black fur. He seemed to close his large round eyes when she touched him with her fingertips. Delilah could hear Sam exhaling when Jax turned back toward the bed and resumed his position of lazing about.

"Do I need to send him downstairs?" Del asked, tossing her bag on the floor by a reading chair she had tucked in a corner of the room. The girl shook her head as Delilah took her bag from her and set it down.

"I still can't watch or read _Cujo._"

Delilah said nothing, letting the girl look around the room. Unfortunately for Sam, it actually was a St. Bernard that had attacked her. She was only a seven year old girl who was coloring with chalk in her own driveway when the neighbor's dog from across the way jumped through a screen door to get to her. To talk to Sam, she blamed the owner more than the dog, but it didn't make the fear any easier to conquer.

"I think I can manage. Or…I at least want to try." She amended, casting her eyes on Jax as Delilah settled next to him. The girl slunk down into a computer chair, eyeing the tower of neatly stacked envelopes. "Fan mail?" She asked.

"Pfft, please." Del snorted, rising to her feet to flip an envelope in her hands. "My parents…" She looked down, tracing the P that was written out in her father's hand.

Sam leaned back at that. "Wow, I know they say you're father's a playboy and what not, but that's seriously romantic."

"I think you read too many romance novels." Delilah said, setting the envelope back on the pile, gently touching the sticky notes that covered the first one on the pile. She could pick out her mother's swoopy script against her father's aggressive scrawl.

"Oh, come on! Both your parents held onto them apparently. That speaks volumes." Sam twisted the chair around as Delilah sank back down on the bed, her eyes still on the letters. "Haven't you read _any_ of them yet?"

"No…" The girl was wringing her hands in her lap. "I guess I'm afraid to. I don't want to stop learning about my mom… I feel like this is all that's left."

Sam opened her mouth to retort, but when someone began to bang on the door, sending Jax into a baying fit, she stopped breathing. "Damn it, Dick! Do you have to do that every time?!" Del yelled, wrenching the door open to let the dog out. He didn't even bat an eye when Jax scurried around him. "Practice, Miss Thing."

"Okay, okay. Give me five to change." With that she shut the door, not even giving him the chance to utter a word. She looked at Sam who had her head down. "You okay?"

"I'm good…" She said holding up a hand as she calmed herself. "You never told me that Dick was hot."

Delilah immediately put her palm into her face. "Oh, God, not you too! Now you sound like my team."

"A little old for my taste, but still nice to look at."

Delilah rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you're just fine." She said sliding into her bathroom with her leotard.

"How come you didn't give me this much flack when I mentioned Drake? Huh? Answer me that."

"I still have no idea what you're talking about." Delilah called, leaving Sam to smile at the door.

"You are the worst liar in history. Just saying."

* * *

It wasn't unusual for Jax to lay by his chair or follow him around the bat cave; however it was strange for the dog to be shadowing him when Delilah was home. The second the father and dog team slid into the hall, Wayne could pick up on the rattle of the uneven bars. It left him standing there in the doorway, watching his daughter straddle, flip and pirouette in the air. The mats gave a crack when her feet made contact. But his daughter was not alone today. Sitting with her legs crossed on the floor and several holographic screens around her was a girl he was sure he had yet to meet. He slid in closer, curious as to what the girl was working on. Nanotechnology and Kevlar? It seemed to have Damian's attention. The boy was sitting beside her, pouring over the notebooks she had scattered around her.

"You're still too stiff." The words had him glancing away from the screens, watching Dick as he forced Del to straighten herself.

"It's that shoulder, isn't it?"

Seeing Bruce Wayne leaning against the wall behind her with his arms crossed to his chest, Sam wasn't sure if she could move. Dealing with Del's little brother was one thing, but Wayne himself? Oh, God. She watched wordlessly as Del gripped one shoulder in particular. "Yes." She answered with a hiss.

"Take a few minutes, and we'll run though it again."

Seeing both Damian and her father intrigued by Sam's project, the girl grinned. "Technology. It gets them every time."

The words seemed to make poor Samantha Cleary go rigid.

"I'm curious, just what are you working on, Young Lady?"

Sam pushed her sliding glasses back up to the bridge of her nose. "My independent study, Sir. Del's been helping me put it together. It's a bullet proof vest that's infused with carbon nanotubes and Kevlar." There was sweat rolling down her back, she was sure of it. But Bruce Wayne seemed to tilt his head. "Why would you choose this as your study?"

"Dad's a retired cop. Commissioner Gordon is my uncle."

That seemed to surprise them. "Mom's his baby sister." She explained.

"Someone's been holding out on me." Del muttered.

"Someone never asked." Sam retorted, her lips working into a smirk.

"Dad, this is Samantha Cleary. She and I go to school together."

"It's nice to finally meet you, I hear your name quite often."

Sam seemed to relax. "Likewise, Mr. Wayne." She answered curious to see the man crouch down and slide through her screens. "And how come you don't participate in something like this?" He asked, peering at Delilah.

"When would she sleep?" Sam asked with a laugh as the girl's face twisted.

"Sleep? Hell, when would I breathe?" Delilah stopped to take drink of her water, watching her father pick up one of the sketches. His eyes flickered from the graph-paper to his daughter. He knew her style when he spotted it.

"I sketch the designs, the rest is all her, I keep telling her she needs to apply for our engineer scholarship when college rolls around."

"Indeed."

Of course she had the idea that maybe her father would be interested in seeing it in prototype form. Not as a vest but as something else entirely. Oh, she knew the way his brain worked. "Did your father work for Gotham PD as well?" Bruce asked, pulling himself from his stance.

Delilah could only watch, aware her father was digging if ever so subtly. The Gotham Police Department did anything but walk on the straight and narrow. Only when James Gordon became commissioner did the department begin to untangle itself from the Falcone family.

But Sam shook her head. "No, he was a beat cop in Chicago. He had a run in with one of the Viti boys, the bullet barely missed his spine, but he was never the same after that. We moved up here after Barb…" They knew where to fill in the blanks. The Joker left Barbra Gordon to die, only for her to survive as a paraplegic.

"This must be very important to you then."

"It's just research, but I like the idea of creating something that could keep people from harm."

"I would very much like to see your project at the end of the school year."

Delilah bit into her lip to keep herself from smiling. Poor Sam was as red as a tomato, but she managed a nod. "S-sure."

"No pressure."

Bruce eyed his daughter but let his gaze fall back to Samantha. "Am I _that_ scary?"

"Oh, Lord, you have no idea." The girl squeaked, clutching her chest with exaggeration.

Bruce Wayne seemed to chuckle at that. "I'll let you girls get back to work. Miss Cleary, you would be more than welcome to join us for dinner."

The second the door closed behind the man, Cleary went slack against the wall. "Are you kidding me right now?" She cried, throwing a pencil in Delilah's direction. The girl only simpered, easily dodging the flying piece of wood.

* * *

Delilah slid into the darkness of her bedroom after seeing to it that Sam arrived safely at home. She was just sliding down the door to the floor when the lamp flicked on, filling the room with light. Dick was sitting in her reading chair, her bag at his feet.

"You got her involved didn't you?"

The girl let her head fall back against the door. "She listens to the scanners for me. That's it." Dick was up, her yellow cloak fisted in his hand. "Anything else? Did you tell her-"

"NO! She doesn't know. I don't want her to know. It's safer that way." Delilah worked herself to her knees, wincing when her shoulder began to ache with the slightest movement. "Besides..." she said with a ragged breath, snatching the cloak from him when she finally made it to her feet. "Dad's secret is not mine to tell."

He was watching her carefully. Without as much as a word he turned on the overhead light. "What's _really_ wrong?"

"One of the Red Hood's rounds made it through my suit. Sam dug it out, but it doesn't feel right."

Delilah nearly jumped out of her skin when Dick ripped the back of her shirt up. She could feel the tacky adhesive of the bandages pulling at her skin when he peeled it away from the three day old wound. It was certainly inflamed, red and full of puss. The more he eyed the hole in her shoulder the more he thought that something was glimmering inside of her flesh. "Where are your tweezers?"

"Top drawer, right-hand side in that bathroom." She managed, listening to the wood creak under his feet as he moved. "I think there's something still there." He said, rolling the computer chair at her. "Sit." She did, easing herself backwards over the chair. The girl's skin pricked at the feel of the cold tweezers, but the sensation was quickly forgotten when he started to dig. "I got it." But the words didn't offer the girl any solace, not when she could feel the object scrapping its way out of her flesh.

By the time Dick pulled the small black piece from her body, Del was gasping, ignoring her blurring eyes. She looked down at his hand, there sitting in his palm was a small chip with serrated points. "It looks like…"

"A tracking device."

Delilah stared at the piece when he handed it to her. It almost looked like…

"Dick?"

"What?" He snapped, coming up from her bathroom cabinet with a first aid kit. "Do you have any idea how stupid and irresponsible this is?"

"Dick."

"Your Dad is going to kill you, or at least make you wish he would."

"DICK!"

"WHAT?!"

"Does it look like a mini league of assassin's star to you? Or am I crazy?"

"I think you're just-" Dick's eyes wandered down to her hand, looking at the small bloody thing. "not crazy."

His dark eyes flicked back up at her. "What else do you know?" He asked as he remembered to recover her wound with clean bandages. She felt her body try and pull away from the touch of the cold salves. But only when he stepped away did she turn herself in the chair.

"You might want to sit." She said softly. He did. Slowly. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

Delilah shook her head. "I know who the Red Hood is." Her voice left her in a whisper, betraying her of all the strength she thought she had. When Dick shot up, the girl found herself digging her hands into the computer chair.

"How?! Who?!"

"You know him too…"

That seemed to startle him. He just stared at her wide eyed, motioning for her to continue.

"Dick, its Jason."

He leered at her. "Excuse me? Look, Del, I don't have time to play games with you, this is serious."

"I'm not playing games!" she cried, jumping to her feet. "I'm not, kidding, jesting or joking. Not about this! Never about this! You know me better than that!" She turned from him, fisting her hands in her long dark hair. "He took off my mask, and called me by name."

"Everyone knows who you are!"

"Dick...I saw his face. He took his mask off." She said, letting her hands fall to her sides with a slap. Dick was pacing.

"How?!"

"Lazarus pit."

He paused. "Damian."

"I already confronted him." Del said, forcing him to let his hand fall from the door knob. "He confirmed it. Talia thought she would bring him back, thinking it would put her in Dad's good graces, only he didn't come back the same."

Dick was resting against the door, his eyes on the floor. "Why? Why haven't you gone to him yet? Why haven't you told him?"

"I-I-"

"Or were you too afraid of letting him know it was you?"

"No-It's not just-"

"You could have done the right thing, but instead you hid it!"

"Damn it, Dick! No! I know he already knows. I don't know _how_ to tell him about Jason." She eyed her phone as it hummed on her desk, but turned away from it. "I'm afraid of what it's going to do to him."

Dick pulled the door open. "Did you ever think of what it would do to him if his own daughter hid it from him?" When he stepped out into the hall, the girl just sank into the chair. She could hear Dick's footsteps out in the hall as she picked up her phone. A picture text from Sam.

The phone fell out of her hand. "DICK!" his name left her mouth in a shriek, as she swiped the phone off the floor and scrambled for the hall way. He was paused, staring at her as if she had lost her ever loving mind.

"He has her." It was all she could get out as she chased after him, shoving the phone at him. "Who has what? What's wrong now?" But the words stuck in his throat the second he looked down. Sam's sobbing bloody face covered half of the screen while the Red Hood posed behind her.

Del yanked the phone from him, and dashed out of the hallway, Dick close behind her.

* * *

"DAD!"

Her yells put the bats in a panicked frenzy. Batman had just hopped in the car. "Not now, Del. Damian's on the loose." He said gesturing to the empty costume cases.

"Dad, the Red Hood has Sam!"

His glowing eyes widened as he lifted himself out of the car. She immediately gave him the phone. "What do I do?" She asked, watching his mouth open and close.

He spun on his heel at her. "Why is he sending _you_ coordinates?"

In that moment the girl felt so small. Perhaps the shoes she was trying to step into were much larger than she originally thought. "He knows who we are, all of us." She said evenly, taking a second to swallow down her uneasiness. "Dad…its Jason. I _know_ its Jason." He stepped back from her as if the words that came out of her mouth were tainted and vile.

"DAMN IT!"

He pointed at Dick. "You. Keep her out of trouble." He said, turning back to the Bat-mobile.

The second it roared out of the cave, the girl was running for the table. "Fuck. My grappling gun isn't here." _Damian._ The girl turned and fled up the stairs.

"Oh, hell no!"

"He said to keep me out of trouble. Not that I couldn't help."

* * *

All Sam could taste was blood. Trapped on her side, the girl could feel the dirt and blood matting on her face. It was a large building, it smelled of mold and rust, but beyond that she hadn't the slightest idea where she was. One moment she was in her bed, the next…trapped in this godforsaken place. She forced herself to squint her eyes when her body trembled, causing the links in the shackles behind her back to clink as they shook.

"Are you absolutely sure she'll come?"

Sam didn't recognize the whimpering sound that filled the air when a boot pressed down on her rib cage. "Oh, trust me, she'll come." At the words the woman lifted her foot. Sam could only make out the blurry shapes of her trim body and her long dark hair. The man in the red mask was sitting on a barrel, just staring at her. "I hope she kicks your fucking ass!" She screamed, aware of how hoarse her voice had become. But the words seemed to do nothing but bring a throaty laugh out of the woman.

"You have a lot of faith in the little thing, don't you?" the woman asked, grabbing Sam by the hair. "Do you really think she stands a chance against us all?"

When her head hit the ground, she squinted, watching the shadows swarm along the scaffolding above their heads. There were so many shapes. So many people. All this? For Del? "Jesus, it's a trap." Sam breathed, choking on the dust that caked around her mouth. The woman crouched down by her face.

"A bright one isn't she?"

Lying there, Sam watched the shadows begin to lessen. Something, something was here. _Del? _ The thought was quickly dismissed when the moonlight that poured in from the glass ceiling turned to shadow. Sam forced herself to twist, trying to look away when the glass shattered above their heads.

A body in a yellow cloak dropped down to their feet. If that was Del, then who was already here?

"IT'S A TRAP!"

The room erupted into chaos.

Delilah ducked under a blade, biting back a groan when it sliced her arm.

"Lady Shiva!" The woman barley had time to look up before Nightwing dropped on her, knocking the blade from her. Delilah slid to grab it, using it to block the strike of a ninja the second she got her hands on it. In that moment, the glass above them broke again, landing Robin right on top of him. "You really _don't_ know how to use that, do you?" He said snidely, not even blinking when the blood splattered across his face when he stabbed the man with his own sword. She didn't hesitate, she kicked him, snatching his sword from him before he did something he might not regret, but their father certainly would.

Delilah tumbled backwards, decking the next opponent with the butt a sword before launching the blades into the wall. She made a bee line for Sam, even if it meant laying a few bodies out on the way. She dropped to her knees, digging into her harness.

"Took you long enough." Sam croaked, feeling Delilah push on her hands to keep them still.

Del pulled her balaclava from her mouth. "Be as still as you possibly can, I'm going to use some acid to break up the chains."

The second the acid began to eat through the metal, she yanked the girl's arms apart, keeping her from touching the substance as it continued to eat its way through the floor. They could work on getting the cuffs of later. She was working on the set around the girl's ankles when the sound of tsking forced her to look up.

The Red Hood was perched on a beam just above them, wagging his finger at her. The second he jumped down, she slid back. She stepped carefully, minding where he was trying to drive her. When he finally swung, she jived out his path.

"Not so ready to fight now, are you?" He asked, watching her dodge him again. But when she came up, she was smiling. "No. I'm just stalling."

Batman came swinging into him, knocking him through the rusting metal walls. Delilah put her mask back over mouth and started to scramble her way back to Sam when the room began to fill with black plumes of smoke. Smoke bombs.

"You can't lift her." She heard Dick Whisper, when he pushed her out of the way to scoop Sam up. He could use the smoke to escape with her. She did nothing but nod. Turning, she could make out Damian's shape in the lingering smoke, spying her grappling gun, she yanked it from him.

"Hey!"

She was up and out into the night air. Had she not scanned the buildings, she would have missed the brief glimpse of a red mask turning a corner around a nearby roof top. _Damn it, Jason. _ She hit the roof rolling, the second she got to her feet she went after him, he turned his head just in time for her to come flying at him with an elbow. They both skid across the tiled surface.

He recovered first, casting a shadow across her when she pulled herself to her feet. "Why?!" She found herself screaming at him. "WHY?!"

But he only gave her silence, pulling his mask from his face as if it was restricting him. His hand fell to the inside of his jacket. It was then she saw the outline of a scabbard. "Get away from me, Pipsqueak."

"Or what?! You're going to hurt me?"

"YES!" The answer was a strangled one, his right hand was on the sword, but his left seemed to be struggling to keep the sword in the scabbard. In a blink he rushed her, the sword was free, and her body hit the wall behind her.

"Jason!" There was no answer; his eyes were gazing right through her, a dead gaze. The blade was shaking against her neck. She could feel the blood begin to trickle in small beads. He didn't want to do this. Surely he didn't want to hurt her. "Why are we doing this to each other?" She whispered, forcing herself not to swallow. "I don't want to see anyone hurt. Not even you." But things would not end this way. They all end up hurt at some point in some way. No one in this life was left unscathed. It might have been Jason in front of her, but Jason surely wasn't home.

"Do you remember the robin?" she asked, aware that the words made him flinch. "I let it go. I let it go, and do you know that damn bird comes back every season?" The sword moved away, but not enough. "_You_ were supposed to let it go, you idiot. I was waiting for you." Another step back. "You promised!" He made another move back. "I'm sorry, Jason, I'm so sorry." She quickly made her move, butting him in the head. She went to kick him back, when someone hit her from the side. Just as she spilled to the ground she caught the red and yellow fabric of a costume out of the corner of her eye. _Damian_.

She had pushed herself, just in time to watch the hooded Robin duck the blade. The next thing Del knew, there was blood splattering across her face. Damian had literally skewered him. "NO!" The boy ripped the sword from Jason's body, just as the girl scrambled to her feet.

"Get out of my way!

But she couldn't help it, she found herself rushing the boy. She grabbed his armed hand, forcing them both down to them both to move when the Red Hood swiped at them. "You idiot! He's dead! He should stay dead! Damian lept up, kicking his sister square in the chest. In oversight, perhaps he didn't think she would be slamming right into Jason.

What Del didn't expect was to be flung forward. The second she hit the pavement, Damian was flying over her, filling the air with the sound of metal scraping against metal. _"Del, I need your help. I don't know where Sam lives." _

The roof top was streaked with red. And even though Jason was visiblely wounded, he seemed to be matching Damian step for step and attack for attack.

"ROBIN!"

They both looked up, watching the moon as it was blacked out completely by the Dark Knight. The Red hood suddenly turned and leapt off the roof, disappearing into the unlit alley ways around them. Robin and Batman were rolling, but the second her father came up with Damian's collar fisted in his hands, the girl made her exit. "I'm on my way."

* * *

By the time she found Nightwing, Delilah was shaking. All she could smell in the night air was blood, but when she stepped into the light of a street lamp, she realized she was covered. Dick's glowing eyes widened.

"It's not mine." She breathed, her eyes falling on Sam who was strangely curled up against Dick's chest. "Is she-"

"Her face is going to be bruised. I think she has a few broken ribs, but other than that, she'll be okay. I gave her a mild sedative."

The Cleary house was bathed in a sea of flashing lights that flickered from red to blue. When the two were spotted carrying the girl, they were rushed by uniforms. "Oh! My baby!" Mrs. Cleary cried, reaching out to Sam when the paramedics whisked her from Nightwing's arms.

"I think she's going to be okay." But a frantic Evelyn Cleary suddenly turned on her husband, her hand came down on his face with a smack. "This is your fault! I told you! I told you she didn't need to be hanging around _that girl_!" Delilah felt her heart drop to her stomach.

It was a sallow faced Gordon who pulled the pair apart. "Evie, Evie stop it."

"But that's my baby, Jim! Why would they do this to my baby?"

_Because, she's my friend. She's important to me, and now they know it._ The words were right there, ready to fall from her mouth when Gordon began walking in their direction.

"Does he know who did this? Is it tied to the Wayne girl? I know she called in about the text, but when we arrived to the location, it was empty."

Nightwing nodded. "I'm afraid so, but I think they're after something bigger, than young Samantha Cleary. It was the response they were after."

At that moment, Sam's mother came flying forward, she grabbed Nightwing's arms.

"Thank you, thank you for bringing her back to us." The way she looked from him to Del with tears swimming in her eyes, it made Delilah want crumble right there in the street.

* * *

To Nightwing's credit, he didn't say much at all. Only when they arrived to an empty bat cave did the man open his mouth. "Del..." The girl was ripping off her blood stained cowl and cloak. She only spared him a glance.

"Please, please don't say it." She whispered, half afraid her words would get lost in the sound of the bat chatter. "I know what I have to do." She amended, heading for the stairs.

She ducked under Alfred's shocked gaze as she slid by him on the stairs. His eyes fell to the yellow blood soaked ball she had tucked in her arm. "Delilah?"

"I'm okay, Alfred."

The girl paused, watching Dick's shadow cut across the light the fled up the stairs. "Do you want me to take you, or Alfred?"

Del stared at the ceiling a moment. _I don't want to do this. I don't. _But what other choice did she have? She peered over her shoulder at him, trying to ignore his apologetic face. "Would you mind? I think Dad's going to need Alfred when he drags Damian back here."

The girl gritted her teeth at the sound of the boy's name coming from her own mouth. It was the League of Assassins that had taken Sam. It was the League that had brought Jason back to life. They supplied him with the tracking device that Dick had found embedded in her shoulder. Jason didn't need to know where she went, but _they_ did. What she didn't know was why. But something told her, her so called brother knew. He knew a hell of a lot more than he was letting on. He had to know they were poking around.

"I hope Batman reams his ass."

"Miss Wayne!"

"He's going to come right to you when he's done with him, you know." Dick chided after her as she continued up the stairs.

"I don't even care." She couldn't believe the words were even coming out of her. It must have surprised Dick, because he simply stopped dead in his tracks. "If he does, I deserve it."

* * *

The charms on Del's bracelet jingled and shook with every step she took. She knew the stark corridors of Gotham Memorial well. Maybe a little too well. For a Friday night business seemed to be slow. She didn't bat an eye at the lobby or the poor wretches that sagged in the chairs of the waiting room.

"Miss Wayne?"

The girl glanced at the nurse that hurried to catch her from behind the nurse's station. "I'm here to see Samantha Cleary." She said, continuing down the hall with Dick in her wake.

"Visitor hours-"

"What room is she in?" Delilah said coolly, cutting the woman off when she paused in the hallway. The woman seemed to be struggling. Did she keep with hospital policy? Or did she tell one of their largest benefactors what she wanted to know? But as Dr. Elliot and Mr. Cleary stepped out of a room down the hall, the girl quickly dismissed the nurse, an continued toward them. Dr. Elliot spied her first.

"Delilah. Are you all right?"

"Fine." She cursed at herself for her clipped tone and then set her eyes on Mr. Cleary. "May I speak with her a moment?"

As if her words were a trigger, the door shot open. "Oh no you don't! " Delilah had no choice but to back up as Sam's mother came charging out into the hall. She let the woman drive her into the wall. "It's because of you that she's here!" Del didn't flinch when the woman's hand came down on her face, the sound of a palm hitting flesh seemed to echo through the hall.

Mrs. Cleary suddenly recoiled when it dawned on her just what she had done, but by her stern expression, she was far from apologizing. "You put my daughter in this position, I don't know how, but I know it was you!"

"Mrs. Cleary!"

All Delilah could do was touch her stinging cheek as people reacted to corral the frantic woman. Would her mother be any different? She didn't know the answer to that.

"Miss Wayne, I'm so-"

Her blue eyes flicked from Mr. Cleary to his wife. "No. She's right." Delilah said evenly, pushing herself from the wall. "It's my association with her that puts her at risk. I just wanted to talk to tell her myself." She said, glancing at the door as it opened again.

"Aunt Evie, let her. It's only fair to Sam."

Barb. Delilah couldn't look at her as she crossed the threshold into the dimly lit hospital room. She shut the door softly behind her.

Sam's face had already taken on a blue gray shade as the bruises started to take shape.

"Hey."

Her right eye was completely swollen shut. Delilah eased herself into the chair beside her. A chair that was still warm. Her mother hadn't left her side, not once.

"Hey yourself." She answered, swallowing when her voice came out thicker than she hoped. "Sam, I'm sorry…I'm so sorry."

The girl seemed to take a short breath. No doubt a painful one. "Why are you apologizing? You didn't do this to me." Sam croaked, forcing herself to turn her head so she could face Del properly. Her eyes fell to the girl's fingers, watching her twist and pull at the charms on her bracelet.

"You know—you know who did this—don't you?"

Delilah only nodded, her eyes cast down on the tiny silver charms. She lifted her head, startling Sam with the way her eyes seemed to glow in the darkness.

"Yes…and they know me too." Del answered rising to her feet, her fingers working the small silver charms off her bracelet. They were small silver pieces. Small glasses, the word 'Nerd' and a small bead engraved with the word 'friend'. The second Delilah put them in the girl's palm; she knew exactly what was going on.

"Wait. Wait-no. Del, come on. You're my best friend." The plea was small, weak and painful to listen to.

Delilah's lips felt heavy as they twisted into a half-hearted smile. "You're my _only_ friend." She whispered, forcing the girl's fingers to fist over the little objects. "And they know that…" she said, trying to ignore how tight her mouth was feeling now that Sam was just shaking her head.

"It's not safe."

"But I gave these to _you_."

Delilah nodded, forcing herself to turn and march for the door the second her lashes started to feel wet.

"Maybe one day…"

Delilah pulled the door closed, trying with all her might not to listen to Sam on the other side. The second she looked up, she realized Batman was standing there with Commissioner Gordon. He had heard everything. She only glanced at him, but quickly looked away.

"We need to take your phone as evidence, Miss Wayne." Gordon said, pushing his thick round glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

"Of course." She said, fishing the object out of her pocket. She let it fall into one of the red taped evidence bags. "Anything else?" She asked, forcing down the overflow of emotions. "If so, we'll contact your father, but this is all, for tonight." With that she nodded, quietly thanked him, and started her way back down the hall where Dick was waiting for her. Only, Dr. Elliot reached her first.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

She found herself stuck when he grabbed her by the arm. The cut she had sustained was starting to bleed through her shirt. "it's just a cut." She said simply. But the man seemed to sigh. "Let's take a look at it just in case."

This was the last thing she wanted. She followed him into one of the sterile rooms, well aware that Dick had moved his position to right outside the door.

"Have a seat." The man told her, gesturing to a stool as he went through the ominous cabinets and drawers. "Can you roll up your sleeve for me?"

Delilah did, realizing the red gash was a little deeper than she expected. He even seemed surprised as he seated himself across from her arm. "Now, that looks nasty." He commented, setting about cleaning the site. "How did you do that?"

"Horsing around with my brother."

"Oh, the young man Bruce adopted, that's right."

Delilah knew Tommy Elliot and her father were childhood friends, not that you could tell from the way they acted now. It was as if they hardly even knew each other. "How is the old man?" He asked, tossing the bloodied cotton swabs into the waste bin.

"Grumpy." Del supplied, scrunching her nose when it began to sting.

"Sorry."

"He still sucks at Stratego." She added, knowing it was their game of choice as children, if they weren't running around the cemetery.

The man gave a throaty laugh, but then said something that caught her from left field. "It amazes me how much you look like your mother."

Delilah blinked, letting the good doctor explain himself.

"She and I went to the same school. She wanted to be a doctor herself at one point."

"She couldn't stomach the sight of blood…" Delilah said quietly. Small cuts and a couple sutures was one thing, but when it came to cutting someone open, or the really gory looking stuff, her mom would toss her cookies.

"Is _that _what it was?"

Del nodded, watching him suture the cut. "She switched schools and started for a business degree."

"Started working for Wayne Enterprises and met my childhood friend instead."

"Small world." Delilah chirped, unsure why the statement made the air suddenly uncomfortable.

"Indeed." He said, cutting the strand. "There you go."

"Thank you." Del murmured, the charms on her bracelet rattled as she worked the sleeves down. When Dr. Elliot's fingers touched the small charms, Del froze.

"Let me guess, the teacup and treble clef that's Alfred. The gymnast and the film reel must be your brother, because the P, piano and the paintbrush must definitely be your mother. She was a brilliant artist."

Delilah nodded. When his fingertips touched the last three, charms, she felt the bracelet tighten.

"If it wasn't for the B, I wouldn't know that would be for your father. A pumpkin, and a bat?" When his hand fell away, Delilah quickly pulled her sleeve down, letting the bracelet tuck underneath.

"Halloween. It's kind of our thing." She didn't tell him that pumpkin was a symbol of the first time she had ever met him. And the Bat, well, anyone who knew him, could have made a guess at that. But he seemed to like that answer. "Good thing that Halloween is coming then isn't it?" He asked walking her toward the door.

She smiled, nodded and thanked him again, latching onto Dick the second she crossed into the hall. "Get me out of here." She whispered. "Now." He raised he brow at her, but didn't argue. He hated this place as much as she did.

"Everything okay?" He asked the second they slid out to the sidewalk. The girl nodded and then shook her head, leaving her arm entangled in the crook of his elbow as they crossed the sparsely lit parking lot.

"I know Dr. Elliot is a friend of Dad's, and that he means well, but that man gives me the creeps."

"Why?"

Delilah stared back at the hospital, counting the windows that were still aglow. "I don't know. But there's just something…"

Dick sighed. "There goes that Wayne intuition again." He said with a grumble flinging the driver's side door of his car open.

"And it's hardly ever wrong." Del told him. But the man didn't argue. He knew that to be true.

* * *

Sometime in the wee hours that were left of the darkness, Del could hear her door creak open. For a moment she didn't even breathe as she listened for the footsteps. She didn't hear any. She simply heard the cushion of her reading chair squish down as someone sank into it. Peering in the edges of her vision without lifting her lids she could make out her father's imposing frame. For a long while, he just sat there, but then he rose to his feet and slowly made his way toward her. Del couldn't help it, she kept her eyes closed. She could felt his thumb smudging the remainder of the sticky tears that had yet to dry on her face.

"Why does the right thing feel so terrible?" She asked with a sniff. She expected him to berate her. To chew her up one side and down the other, but it didn't happen. He just pushed a stray hair back behind her ear. Did he think she was punishing herself well enough?

"The right choices, seldom feel like good ones." He murmured. So this is why he kept the world at arm's length. "She's my only friend…" Delilah whispered, watching the light flood into a corner of the room when he opened the door to slide back into the hall.

"All the more reason to keep her safe."

He was right. God, as much as she hated it, he was right.


	12. Damian

**A/N:** And another one. This one more or less explores how Damian and Del work as siblings. If the last chapter was confusing, the first person prose were merely illustrating how Sam and Del had met. So essentially it showed how the friendship began and ended. *cough* for now.

**Update: **Added in a few fixes, sorry about that!

* * *

It was the soft flutter of paper that tore Del from her dreamless sleep. The bed was empty, void of Jax's presence. It left the girl squinting at the light that seemed to pour from the windows. _I overslept?_

Pushing herself to sit up, she followed the noise, spying a hazy shape of a boy sitting at her desk with one of her mother's letters.

"What are you doing in here? She managed, trying to ignore the urge to lay her swimming head back down on the pillow. "And why are there two of you?" She groaned, putting her palms into her eyes. "One of you is bad enough." Realizing what he was reading, she shoved the blankets back, clamoring to get out of bed.

"Put those away!" She snapped, trying to reach out to snatch the letter from him. The boy jumped back, landing on his haunches on one of her low shelves, knocking over picture frames and knickknacks in his wake.

"Pennyworth gave you chamomile tea, did he?" he asked, watching her stumble and latch onto the poster of the bed before she ended up hitting the ground.

Delilah sank to the floor, resting her head against the mattress. That explained a lot. No wonder her father was so grumpy so often. "How did you get in here?" She grumbled, forcing herself to her knees so she could begin to pick up the things he had knocked over.

"I spotted the number on the girl's hand, it way too easy. Pretty sloppy really."

"Samantha!"

Delilah pulled herself from the ground, shaking the glass out of the broken picture frame. "Her name was Samantha, now off!"

The second he hopped down, she ripped the letter from his hand. " How the fuck can you be so smug?! You saw what they did to her! She's never hurt a soul her entire life!" Del turned to toss the letter on her desk, but just as Damian thought she was on her way to being rational, she turned on her heel. "I don't understand you. I don't. Sam was nice and respectable towards you wasn't she?"

Damian said nothing.

"ANSWER ME!"

"Yes." He said shortly, watching her shoulders fall when she just sighed and shook her head.

"I don't get you. I really, really don't. Doesn't it bother you? Even a little? How can they groom you to lead humanity when you couldn't give a rat's ass if it burned? It's just a bunch bullshit."

"It is not!"

She turned to him then, the sun causing her eyes to gleam. "Right, try explaining that to Sam. What did she do to deserve this?" Delilah wanted to know, yanking a pair of pants from her closet. She didn't wait for the boy to answer her; she simply slammed the bathroom door, leaving him standing there in a sea of broken glass.

"Nothing…she did nothing."

* * *

Damian was crouched on the floor, an old childhood friend fisted in his hands. The glass was in a neat glittering pile. "You sound like Father." He accused, staring at the stuffed Batman.

"Good, at least one of us does." Del snipped back. It was all she needed to hear to know that her father had given the boy a scathing lecture. Then the kid did something she hadn't seen him do before. He sighed, setting Batman back on the shelf.

"So, do you want to tell me why the league is trying to keep tabs on me?" She asked, fishing into her desk and tossing Damian a small clear bag with the bloodied tracking device still inside. "Dick found it in my shoulder; I can only guess that they have these things inside Jason's rounds." She watched him turn the bag over in his hands, inspecting the tiny thing with his shrewd eyes. "Unless you have the balls to tell me you don't think it's related."

"He's the Red Hood." Damian said evenly.

"The Jason you knew is dead." He tossed the bag back at her, ignoring her leer. "It's one of the League's. But why they would want to track _you_ is a mystery. You're not even that important."

Delilah dropped the bag to the floor. Dick had fried it the minute he knew what it was, but just to be sure she crushed it under her shoe, satisfied to hear it crunch. "Maybe not to you, but I know I'm one of Dad's weaknesses."

Squatting down to pick up the shattered piece she stared at him. "I'm not so naive that I don't realize what I am."

The girl rose from her crouch. "Jason tears at his rational thinking, it's emotional for him. It's going to soften him." She said, watching Damian clasp his hands behind his back. "What are they plotting, Damian?"

Outside the bare trees bent to the will of the wind. What would happen to the branches if they didn't bend? Surely they would break. "I don't know." He said softly. "I DON'T KNOW!" She just looked at him with those eyes. His father's eyes. They just regarded him the same way. She didn't believe a word that was coming out of him either.

"I'm just the distraction." He said quietly, turning his face to the sunlight. "I'm just her pawn."

Delilah rose from her crouch slowly, trying to shake off the chill his words had given her, but she didn't utter a sound. This was the most emotion she had ever seen come out of the kid.

"I don't know how to make him believe me." He said, slamming a fist on the shelf in front of him, making the frames rattle in place.

"Actions. Actions speak louder than words, Damian." She said sidling into the space beside him, but she didn't spare a look at him. "You have to show him that you can play by his rules."

When he gave her nothing but silence she spoke again.

"So, Jason softens him up. You're the distraction for the set up. Then what am I?"

"The final blow."

She looked at him then. "Alright, what are we going to do about it?"

The words seemed pull him into facing her. His own face pulled and twisted into that incredulous look of his. Surely he was too young to be making such wrinkles. "We?" He asked, raising his brow at her. "Did Pennyworth give you too much tea?"

"I didn't stutter did I? This is my family they're toying with."

"I don't need your help." He scoffed.

"Yes you do. You don't know Dad as well as you thought."

Damian turned away from her, leaving her just a tad curious when he crouched down and retrieved the sword she had tucked into the frame of her bed. "If I _let_ you help me, then we have work to do."

"Just what are you saying, Ninja Boy?"

"That you're slow-it's embarrassing."

* * *

Alfred seemed a little miffed to see her up so early. "Well, good morning, Miss."

"Good morning, you sneak." Delilah said, gingerly plucking an apple out of the fruit bowl on the counter. She picked another and threw it at Damian.

"I warned you he'd do that, didn't I?"

Del pushed her father's paper down, beaming at him when he glared at her over the wrinkled folds. "You mentioned something about it." She said when he yanked his paper away from her. "Don't forget about today."

"Today?" He was folding his paper now, smoothing out the wrinkles she had made."What about it?"

"Kid's Quest. Downtown Park, the one near Wayne Enterprises? Hello? C'mon, I know you didn't forget." Of course he didn't, not when she was constantly reminding him. The girl tipped his cup forward, nearly done, but not yet.

Bruce Wayne was most definitely a philanthropist with his money. But when her own mother became the head of the PR department, she sought to change the way the community viewed Wayne Enterprises. And the best way to do that was through Wayne himself. He hated giving speeches, but according to Paige Larson, actions spoke louder than words. So if he was actively doing something with his hands right there in the community, he could more than likely get out of giving speeches and still have the same effect.

"Its good press for both Kid's Quest and Wayne Enterprises." She said, wiggling her brows when he just sort of smirked at her. Some days when this girl opened her mouth, her mother came out.

"Can't a man finish his coffee?"

"Hurry it up."

She was immediately swatted on the head with the newspaper. "Pushy isn't she?"

Alfred seemed to scoff. "She comes by it honestly, Sir."

Bruce tipped back his cup to polish it off, when his eyes fell on the boy who was standing against the doorjamb, rolling the apple in his hand.

"He's going too."

That had the pair of them staring at her wide eyed. But instead of explaining it to her father, Del turned to Damian. "You want to lead humanity, and then you need to learn to be a part of it. Sometimes you just have to jump in. Time to sink or swim."

"What? But I-"

"Chill, I'm not going to let you drown or anything, but I will crack your skull if you're anything less than nice, make no mistake of that."

"And how do we explain-"

"Big brothers Big sisters Program." She said quickly, glancing at her father. "He's going to be on his best behavior. Right, Damian?" At least…she hoped so.

The boy bit into his apple, watching Del pop her hands on her hips as she stared at him. He rolled his eyes at her. "Yes." Their father seemed less than enthused about the idea.

"We'll see about that." He said, easing himself away from the counter. "Let me change my shirt."

The second he was out of ear shot, Del fisted her hand in Damian's shirt. "Remember what I said, you have to play by his rules."

Damian smacked her hand away. "His rules, not yours."

"Whose rules do you think I follow? This is your chance, don't blow it."

* * *

Standing there in front of the grounds all Del could see was _her_. There were still flashes of a life she could barely recall still residing here. Long before wood on the jungle gym began to split, she could still see her mother standing there, waiting for her on the other end, or waiting to catch her at the bottom of the slide that was so covered by tags it no longer reflected the sunlight.

"Hey."

Delilah blinked, realizing her father was waving his hand in front of her face. The girl automatically shook her head, trying to shake the memories off.

"You didn't hear a word I said, did you?"

"No…sorry."

"Can you help Mrs. Darrel register new volunteers? Damian and I are going to help Trevor start to take some of this down. The new equipment should be arriving by noon."

"Yeah, no problem."

She moved to turn toward the sign in table when her father stopped her. "No picking up any you shouldn't, clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

Del stood there in the wet grass, catching Damian's eye when he looked back. "Don't blow it." She mouthed, turning toward the table where a round older woman sat. The second the woman saw her, she beamed.

"There's she is. I was wondering when my help would show." She said, bending back to look at the girl. There was a small line of people. Delilah immediately grabbed an extra clipboard. "Sorry, I overslept."

There was a cool soft hand on her forehead the second her words left her mouth. "Well, you're not warm. Had to check."

Delilah bit down a laugh as she changed out the forms to a fresh page, she didn't even cast an eye at the next person in line when their shadow washed over her. "Name?"

"Timothy Drake."

The pen rolled from her hand, down the clipboard and into the grass. She went to pick it up the same time he bent down to retrieve it for her. Their heads met with a smack on the up rise.

"Geez, you two haven't even left the volunteer table and you need hardhats." The old woman beside her commented, watching the teens sheepishly grab their heads.

"Tim."

The boy held out her pen. "Delilah."

"Uh, thanks." She grumbled out, taking the pen from him, trying to ignore the ache in her temple. "What are you doing here?"

"Isn't that kind of obvious?"

"Oh, Jesus, Delilah, put the boy to work before you run him off." With that Mrs. Darrel rescued the clipboard from her, leaving her to put her hands on her hips and stare at the woman. "Honey, can you use power tools?"

Tim smirked at first. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Got any weight restrictions? Any health problems that keep you from doing certain tasks?"

He shook his head, letting the old woman scribble her way down the page. "Praise Jesus, Halleluiah. Hand him a hat, Girl, and tell him where to find Trevor. He'll set you up."

Delilah rolled her eyes, reaching into a box of white hardhats. "I've _never_ ran anyone off I'll have you know." She said cheekily, more to the woman than to Tim.

"No. She just scares them off."

"I'm far from scared." Tim jested, taking the hardhat before Del smacked him with it.

"Why don't you introduce him to Trevor?" When Delilah hesitated the woman picked up the girl's work belt and hat. "I can handle this without you." She said with a wink.

"Mrs. Darrel, one might assume that you're doing this on purpose." Delilah whispered.

But the old girl's ruby painted lips just smiled, lifting the laugh lines around her mouth. "One might be right, _now go_."

Tim said kept quiet, his shadow stretching out walking in pace with hers while the long wet grass clung to their shoes. Tim gripped the back of his neck. "Dad mentioned they were going to be here today…so…"

"It's cool. We could definitely use the help." She said quickly, opting to stretching her hands up and stare at the clouds rather than having to look at him. As the white tops of the hardhats came into view, Delilah all but skipped. Her father and Mr. Darrel were taking down one beam of the jungle gym, while Damian and his grandson were struggling to carry their rotting beam to the trash pile. It didn't help that Christian Darrel was nearly two feet taller than the boy. To his credit, Tim jumped right in, lifting the beam level with Christian. Damian was full on glowering.

"And she brings help." Trevor panted.

"He brought himself. Don't look at me." Delilah said, giving a whistle to the trio. All three popped their heads up. "Tim, Trevor Darrel. Mr. Darrel, this is Timothy Drake."

Mr. Darrel only nodded toward him as he and her father heaved the beam into the mounting pile of rubble.

"Sweetheart, can you handle a pair of bolt cutters?"

Delilah nearly choked. "Can I handle a pair of bolt cutters? Oh, ye of little faith."

"Good. Then you can start taking the swings on the old set down. They're so rusted, they're beyond saving."

Delilah froze, eyeing the tired arch of swings.

"Saving the structure?" she heard her father ask.

"Oh yeah, it's got good bones, just needs to be cleaned up."

Delilah only took a breath, picked up the bolt cutters from the tool pile and started wandering her way toward the swings.

"Del, use a ladder like a normal person!" But the girl already had the bolt cutters hanging off her tool belt and was halfway up the pole before her father's words ever reached her. Much to his chagrin the girl only flashed him a smile as she straddled the top of the swing set. "Too late. Maybe next time."

"Sometimes I think that girl is part spider monkey." Mr. Darrel grumbled, rubbing his stubby gray beard.

Bruce crossed his arms infront of his chest. "She's something alright." He said, with a shake of his head. "Damian, give her a hand." Damn if the boy didn't do the same _damn_ thing.

"This is ridiculous." Damian hissed, cutting the bolts from one side as she worked from the other. "What's the point of this?"

Del watched the top of a bolt roll to the sand below, letting chain sag into a pool of rusty links. "Yeah well, so is your face." When he reared his head up at her with that exasperated look, she shook her head. "To give back to the community." She told him, as she clipped the second bolt. That's when the girl noticed a small thing in a blue and purple tutu looking up at them.

"Back up, Sissy, I don't want you to get hurt, okay?" The little blonde thing only nodded, and backed up to the edge of the sand pit.

"Sissy? Who is she, and why has she been following me?" Damian wanted to know. If she didn't know any better she'd say he sounded annoyed.

"Annabelle Collins. Everyone just calls her Sissy." She nodded toward a brown haired boy that seemed a year or two younger than Damian himself. The boy was sanding on the metal seats of the seesaw. "She hangs out at Page for Parents while her brother has his piano lessons."

The man beside him seemed to look up at them. "She's not bothering you guys is she?"

"Yes-"

Delilah immediately smacked her brother on the back of the head. "She's fine, Mr. Collins." She chirped.

The man tilted his head, but nodded before crouching back down to his work.

"Be nice." She hissed, reminding herself to cut the next bolt.

"I don't do _nice_."

"Clearly." Delilah muttered, letting the soft giggles drag her eyes to the ground. "Don't mind him, Sissy, he's a crab."

The child merely gave them a wide gap-toothed smile.

"Why are you following me around?" Damian growled, his green eyes lowering to slits when the child just shrugged.

"She's not going to tell you. She hardly says boo to a goose. She hasn't spoken above a whisper since her mom died last year. Who knows," Delilah said with a shrug, "Maybe she likes you. Can't imagine why, you're not _that_ likeable."

"I don't want to be liked, I rather be feared."

"Yeah, yeah." She murmured, cutting the last bolt in half. She could only smile to herself when Damian simply did a backflip off of the pole and snatched up the swing that Sissy was trying to drag off to the rubble piles.

"Stop following me." He snipped at her, but she just kept skipping just behind him.

"What's so funny?"

Del swung her legs over and dropped herself to the ground beside their father. "Watching my little minion get crushed on by a four year old in a tutu."

"So, he's your minion now? Why are you two so chummy all of a sudden?"

"Chummy? Don't kid yourself; we're just tolerating each other. I've killed him hundreds of times in my head."

Bruce Wayne was not amused; therefore, Batman was definitely not amused.

"Don't look at me like that. It's not like I'm going to act any of it out. It's just wishful thinking." She couldn't help but duck when his hand connected with the back of her head.

"I see where it starts." Damian noted, as he wandered back for the next swing.

Delilah just shrugged. "He does it to me, I do it to you, it's a vicious cycle."

"Actually, it started with Alfred." Bruce amended, picking up a couple of the swings.

"I could see that." Delilah said with a nod, grabbing the last two on the ground.

"I can't. You mean you actually let that servant-"

"_He's not a servant_."

Damian rolled his eyes at the pair of them.

"I open my mouth and my father comes out. What the hell?"

"I told you as much! You don't listen very well, do you?" Damian said snidely, but the two behind him were already laughing. "And…neither does he… Why am I not surprised?"

* * *

By the time the sun had climbed to the center of the sky, it had burned the dew from the grass. Damian could feel it warming his back as he swiped his choice of sandwich from the concession line they had started. He was reduced to _this_? Standing in line with these people?! How humiliating.

"So… how well do you know Delilah?"

His eyes flicked to the tall dark haired boy next to him. Oh, that guy. "And why is that any concern of yours?" Damian hissed, snagging a water bottle from the cooler as he made his way down the line.

"Sorry I asked."

It was around that time that a boy further in line spoke up. "Tim, right? What do you want to know?"

"I was just going to grab her lunch for her -"

"Chicken Salad sandwich, cracked pepper chips, and water. She's a creature of habit."

"Thanks."

Damian peered over his shoulder at the brown haired boy. "It's going to take a lot more than this to get on her good side." The kid told him, grabbing a bag of chips before working his way to a picnic table where Mr. Collins was sitting.

Damian only glared at him. What gave him the right to know his sister so well when he hardly knew her himself? And he was her brother, even if it was only by half.

Damian plopped himself under a tree, curiously watching the black haired boy approach Delilah.

"Are you imagining the swings?" He asked, lowering himself next to her under the shadow of the empty swing set. He set the extra food in her lap.

Her blue eyes seemed to be focused on the white puffs of clouds that skimmed above their heads. "Imagining the way they were, I guess." She said, looking down at the paper plate. "Thanks."

"No problem, had to enlist some help though, I can't say I've ever seen you eat." He said, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Except at that lunch, but you only took three bites."

"Three? You were counting?" She asked, giving him a sidelong glance when she pulled the top layer of bread off her sandwich, and then opened her chips.

"Not really. I just have a really good memory." He said watching her shake the chips onto her sandwich and then put the bread back in place.

"I used to think I had a good memory." She said quietly. "My mom used to take me here on her lunch breaks." She added, forcing herself to take a bite of her food. "Now…all I can remember is bits and pieces."

Tim glanced up at the building in front of them, knowing it was Wayne Enterprises that cast the largest shadow down on them. "So you were in the Wayne tower all that time?"

"There's a child development center on the second floor. So yeah, there were days that I was in the same building with both my parents. I just…I just didn't know it."

"Makes you wonder how well he can see the park from his office, doesn't it?"

She seemed to pause at that. "I never…I never thought of that, but he can see it pretty well actually."

Tim shrugged when she went still. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything-"

"No, no. it's fine. It's not the first time something like that came up."

He raised an eyebrow at her, but when she didn't reply, he let the silence build between them, filling with the sound of soft conversation with the stir of the city on a lunch break.

"I do that too." Tim said suddenly, forcing her to look at him. "Think I'm forgetting my mother. And just when I start to think I've forgotten her completely, something always seems to pop up just in the nick of time to remind me."

"And it's the smallest detail." Delilah supplied, watching his lips kind of upturn when he nodded. Delilah Wayne met Timothy Drake long ago. Not in the crowded halls of Gotham Prep, but in the crowded rows of the cemetery.

He seemed to open his mouth to say something, but stopped when a tiny girl in a tutu came bolting forward. Delilah had just popped the end of her sandwich in her mouth with the girl plopped down beside her, beckoning the girl to tilt her head to the child's folded hands as she whispered in her ear.

"Oh, great." The girl groaned, rising to her feet. She was dusting off the sand when Tim made himself stand up.

"What's up?"

"Just a bunch of buffoons with cameras." She grumbled before turning to the child. "Can you go tell my Dad? He's over there chatting with the Darrels." When the girl nodded, Del gave her a light push. "Run, Rabbit, run."

"And just what are you going to do?"

"Negotiations."

"Oh, we're in trouble."

"Hush up and watch."

* * *

She left Tim standing there, aware that Damian had rose to his feet. "Just stay there." She mouthed to him, urging him to sit back down with the flat of her hand. When the girl spotted the bunch with cameras she met them on the sidewalk, trying to ignore the click of the cameras or how bystanders would stop and stare at the charade.

"Are you here to take pictures or is someone actually trying to write something? Show of hands."

When a few hands slowly popped up, she beckoned them forward with the crook of her finger.

"Who for and what about?"

"_Gotham Gazette_, Miss Wayne. We were told that you and your father were here, and thought it would make for an interesting story."

The girl seemed to tilt her head. "There is an interesting story here, but it's not about us. We're just volunteering; it's not the first time we've done this sort of thing. You know that. But maybe you would rather talk to Darrels, the creators of Quest Kids? They can fill you in better than we can anyway."

She watched the reporter and his fellow photographer trade looks with one another, when the photographer just shrugged the reporter nodded.

"That would be nice."

"I thought I taught you to play nicely." The sound of her father's voice made the group chuckle.

"I am. _I promise._ These gentlemen would like to talk to Mr. and Mrs.'s Darrel."

"I'm sure they would be glad to, they're right over there." Her father said, gesturing to the elderly couple as the journalists crept by him.

When Wayne's eyes landed on the next young man. He immediately went about digging a letter out of his pocket. "I'm a- I'm from _Gotham Teen Magazine_." He stammered, showing Mr. Wayne the letter first. "We've tried contacting Miss Wayne on many occasions, about doing an exposé. Everyone knows her name." he said with a shrug. "But nothing more, aside from the times we've seen her in the paper of course. We know she does quite a bit of volunteering so we were hoping…"

"Let me see if I can get her to agree. As you can tell, she's kind of prickly."

"Prickly? Who are you calling prickly?" Del said loudly as her father turned her away.

"Several attempts to contact you, huh?"

"Yeah. In the trash bin they went." Delilah said through her teeth. "Don't even try to tell me you _don't _do the same thing."

"But wouldn't it be _good press_?"

The girl found her mouth hanging open. "You've been waiting to do this to me, haven't you? Just lying in wait."

He simpered. "That's beside the point. If you can take control on how the media will spin your story, don't pass it up, because if you leave it to the tabloids…like _Gotham Noir_…"

"Okay! Okay!" she screeched, spinning away from him. She looked at the reporter and sighed. "alright."

When the reporter produced a recorder, she found herself inwardly groaning. "Anything you don't wish to discuss?" he asked.

"My mother's death." The words left her quickly. "Uh, look, I know you want to interview me, and that's fine. But I really would like to get back to work. Any chance that thing can still record from your pocket?"

He seemed a little surprised. "Yeah."

"Good. Do you know how to use a paintbrush?"

His eyebrows went up.

"I'm _not_ working while you're standing around. We're too short handed for those shenanigans."

His lips cracked into a nervous smile. "You got it."

"So what's your first question?"

"What do you think your flaws are?"

Damian looked up at the sound of his sister's laugh.

"That's kind of obvious isn't it?" she asked.

"I can be pushy, impatient and-"

"Hard headed."

"Gee, Dad, I wonder where I get that?"

"Might want to add sarcastic to that list too." Her father said peering over his shoulder.

Delilah lifted her arms only to let them fall with a slap. "Again, one of the many traits that happened to his before they became mine." The girl said, jerking her thumb toward her father as he walked ahead of them.

The reporter seemed to be laughing. "You and your father must be a lot alike."

The girl actually stopped as if she were thinking about it. "I guess in a lot of ways, we are." She said stopping to pick up the paint and paint brushes. "We'll be painting on the little playhouses." She said eyeing Damian as he squashed his thumb with the hammer while Sissy peeked at him from inside.

"Damian, what are you doing?"

The boy stared at her dubiously. "Must I state the obvious?"

"Squashing your thumbs?" she asked, taking the hammer from him. "Here." She ripped his crooked nails out with the claw, trying to ignore the man behind her. Using a straight edge the girl made a line with a pencil all the way down the seam. Grabbing a nail from the box at his feet she tapped it, certain it was set straight, she smacked the sucker in. "Don't leave your thumbs at the base; just make sure it's set first."

"A nail gun would be easier." He grumbled.

"A ten year old with a nail gun, no, I think we're good." Del tried not to cringe when she thought of what Damian could do with _just_ a nail gun. Yeah, she would rather see a nice feature in the paper. Not a headliner about a mass murder.

She stopped to crouch at the opening of the playhouse. "Sissy, why don't you come out of there? This one isn't finished yet. You can help Damian."

"And how is she going to do that?" Damian wanted to know, banging in yet another nail.

Delilah picked up the box of nails and handed it to the girl. "You can hand him nails, think you can do that?"

Damian stared at her. "You're doing this to torture me."

"Yes. No. Maybe?" The girl called, flagging her father in Damian's direction.

"Sometimes I think you two speak in code." The writer commented, watching how her father picked up on her cues.

Del shrugged. Getting her father and Damian to work together on something was a little harder than she had actually anticipated. Noticing that Tim was up on the scaffolding painting the higher points she only gave the boy a wave.

"Oh, so this is how you negotiate?"

"What's your next question?" she asked, sending a glare in Tim's direction, before she squatted down to pop the paint cans open with a screw driver.

"What do you think your best qualities are?"

"I uh, can we pass on that one for now?"

"Don't like answering questions about yourself, do you?"

"Not really." The girl answered, dipping her brush into the silvery paint.

"Would you mind if I asked around about that one?" He asked, filling in the spaces of the board with paint as she cut the edges in neatly with her brush.

"Sure."

"How about something easy? Like, what's your favorite food type?"

"Chinese. I'm a sucker for pot stickers. But I'll eat just about anything, especially if bacon is involved." Delilah said, across the way, watching her father and brother working in tandem. As much as she hated to say it, they did that rather well…when Damian wasn't trying to stab things to death.

Sissy had moved off to a tree, seemingly happy to entertain herself under the heavy branches. However, it was the distinct sound of crackling wood that had the girl dropping the paintbrush.

"Sissy! MOVE!" The second Del's voice broke the calm, there were heads popping up everywhere. The heavy branch came down just as a flash of black jacket grabbed the uncertain child.

Delilah beat the chorus of shoes hitting pavement by a matter of seconds. Sissy Collins was staring up from the flat of her back, her blue eyes big and wild. The only thing that had kept the heavy branch from falling on top of her was Damian.

"Are you guys okay?!"

"Get this thing off me." Damian demanded. He was quick but apparently not quick enough, it had caught him on the leg. Del quickly scooped up the girl, moving out of the way when Tim, Mr. Collins and her father moved to lift the heavy branch.

"Is she alright?" Mrs. Darrel wanted to know.

"She looks okay, just a few scratches." Delilah said, turning the girl's hands over.

"That was a perfectly healthy tree. I don't understand."

That's when the girl cupped her hands gently around Delilah's ear.

_Someone was in the tree. _

Del pressed a finger to her lips, watching her father bend down and inspect Damian's foot. He was straight faced through the entire thing, but when her father touched a particular spot, she could see the boy biting on his own cheek. "I'm fine." He said, yanking his foot away and hoping up.

She let the girl down, setting her eyes on the break of the tree branch. It was clean halfway through, almost as if someone had cut it so its own weight would force it to break.

_"What?"_

Delilah looked away, curious to see Annabelle Collins tugging on the bottom of Damian's jacket. When she didn't answer aloud, and continued to tug, the boy rolled his dark green eyes and forced himself to crouch. There was something wrong with the foot; she could see it in his face when he forced himself to stand on it. But when the little girl whispered in his ear and ran away, his face went blank.

"What'd she say to you?" Delilah asked as the group started to disperse, watching him kick the loose twigs that had come down in the fall. Perhaps the little psycho was more human than she thought.

"Thank you." He shrugged. "As if I care."

"Yes you do...we both know that could have killed her." She said softly.

"And just what did she say to _you_?"

"That someone was in the tree."


	13. Tim

**A/N: As you guys can probably tell, I'm kinda going through the list. -Building those layers- Hope you guys enjoy this one. **

* * *

The world was bleak and colorless place when I first laid eyes on Timothy Drake. I was hardly eleven years old when I wandered from the manor, too angry at my father to care that world had become a frozen wasteland.

I remember the snow being deep enough to cover my boots as I trudged up the hill to the cemetery, watching the leafless trees shiver in the biting wind. But the cold did nothing to comfort my bitterness, no matter how I wished it would just numb the ache I felt.

"_She wasn't a part of the plan! I don't know what I'm doing. Sometimes, sometimes... I think she'd be better off with someone else." _

I could still hear my father's words replaying in my head when I reached the wrought iron gates of the cemetery, they were wide open, as wide as my mother's arms would have been. I wasn't supposed to hear him and Alfred discussing me, I knew as much when I confronted him on the stairs of the bat cave.

"Why didn't you just give me away then?! It's a little late now!" I remember watching his eyes become so wide when the words came out of my mouth.

"Delilah, wait…" But I was already up the stairs. I shoved over the first bookcase I came to trying to break his path so I could flee outside. I didn't even grab a coat, I just wanted out of there as fast as my legs would carry me.

And now I was wandering the rows of snowcapped grave markers, pressing my arms against my chest as if it would keep the December cold at bay. The cemetery was eerily quiet, leaving me alone with the whisper of the wind as it nipped at my ears. Looking around however, I noticed that for once I didn't have the place to myself.

The roses the boy had in his hand looked as red as blood against the gray world around us. He looked in my direction, forcing me to look away. I locked my eyes on my mom's head stone, feeling it draw me closer. _Mother, friend. Missed. _God, I missed her so much right in that moment. I wanted her to hug me. I wanted her to say it was okay.

Pressing my back against the stone, her marker felt like ice but I didn't budge. I simply pulled my knees under my chin, forcing myself to endure the painful touch of the chill as my body heat began to melt away.

"I'm so lost, Mama. Tell me what to do…"

The words made my throat ache. I pressed my head into my arms, feeling the small flakes of snow skirt around my cheeks. The delicate fluff that touched the tear tracks on my face seemed to stick to my face. Listening I can sometimes think I hear her talking to me. "What's wrong, Baby?" I know that's what she'd ask. But I heard nothing. I didn't even hear the boy's feet crunching the snow. I just felt his cold leather glove touch my hand.

"Are you okay?"

I forced myself to look up, squinting through the swirls of snow. His eyes were as dark as an evergreen, his black hair seemed to remind me of a raven's feather, but like me his nose and cheeks were red, and it wasn't just from the cold.

"I'm f-fine." I managed, mopping my face with my sleeve. He quickly ripped off his coat, draping over me.

"You're also turning blue." He noted, crouching down beside me. "What are you doing out here?"

I didn't want to admit it, but the coat felt warm around me, warm enough to make my flesh sting when it tried to thaw itself. I watched as a couple deep red petals rolled down the hill, skating down the snow drifts in the wind.

"Sitting with my mom." I managed. "Thank you…"

He tilted his head, regarding me with a sorrowful knowing smile. It's not the kind you make because you want to. It's the kind of smile you make because you're fighting to hold yourself together. He gently touched my mom's headstone, brushing the snow out of the grooves of her name.

"You have someone here too, don't you?" I asked.

He just looked beyond me for a long moment before nodding. "My mom's here too." He said. "A few rows up the hill."

Nearly my entire family was here, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. Both sets of my grandparents were on these grounds somewhere along with my mom and Jason too. "You look really familiar, do you live around here?" He said gently, watching me draw in the fresh snow on my mother's plot.

I pointed down the hill, knowing that just across the small valley you could see the pitch of the rooftops of Wayne Manor now that the trees were bare.

"You're…"

"Delilah!"

I could see the broad shape of my father's body when he weaved his way through the gate. I jumped to my feet, sliding the coat off."Thank you." I said quickly before darting in the other direction, hopping over plagues and monuments, my father in pursuit.

"Del."

I zipped around a mausoleum, trying to evade capture. "NO! Go away!"

"I didn't mean-"

"Yes you did! You _always_ mean what you say!" I cried, ripping my arm from his hand when he managed to grab it.

"Just listen-"

"Why should I?! You don't want me around. You never do!" I turned to run back down the hill, when my boot got snagged on the molding of a marker. The frozen ground felt like cement when I hit it, the snow was no help, it only made sure that I was soaked.

It was in the shadow of that monument that he was able to grab me. At first I fisted my hands and proceeded to wail one him. He just pressed me into him, suppressing me. "Stop it, that's not true."

His hands were cold on my face. "You're frozen." He said, tearing off his coat. "What are you doing running around without a coat?"

"I was mad. Still am!" As if that explained everything.

He threw the coat around me, crouching when he pulled it closed. "Del, I was just venting. This is new to me; I don't know what I'm doing. I don't even know if I'm doing it right."

"You took in Dick and Jason." I told him, feeling his thumb brush under my eye.

"A little girl is a bit different."

"I'm a girl, so what? It's not rocket science." I grumbled, rolling my eyes. "I just want to belong." I said softly, watching him look down at the snow between us and then back up at me.

"I don't mean to push you away." He said gently.

"Well, stop it." I said smartly, putting my hands on my hips the best I could. His coat all but swallowed me whole. "But I guess I could learn to be more understanding too." It was then I began to realize how much of a toll being a single parent took on my father. Maybe it was easier when the children that came into your life were half grown. Not a little girl who had no real role models to speak of except for a man who donned a cape and cowl nearly every night. It was from this moment I can say that the idea of _Page for parents_ was born.

Dad seemed to nod as he pulled himself up. "We'll both work on that." He said, holding his hand out to me. I know they were cold, but to my aching hands, they were warm. He looked up, eyes locking on the stone behind me. His lips broke into that sad smile of a mourner. It was enough to make me turn around and stare.

_Wayne_. Of all the headstones to trip on. I remember tracing the snow out of my grandparent's names. "I think they made their point." I told Dad, feeling his arm drape around me as we walked toward the gates.

"I think you're right."

Looking out over the rows of weary stones and statues, I didn't see the boy. Stopping with Dad by my mother's plot, I realized that there was a rose lying in the heart I had drawn in the snow. "Did you put that there?" I asked, watching Dad's fingers kind of linger on the word _missed_. When my words finally seemed to register, he looked down at the crimson colored rose and shook his head.

For a while I thought the boy was nothing more than a figment of my imagination. I didn't see him again that winter, no matter how many trails I left there in the snow. But he always left a flower behind for my mother. I finally had to ask the grounds keeper, about the black haired boy. He only gave me a name. Janet Drake. I started leaving flowers for her too.

The first time I saw Tim face to face since that day in the snow, we paused, stared and simply nodded to each other. It was if speaking would somehow break the silent oath that we had forged. The oath of the motherless.

* * *

"Oh, here she comes."

Tim turned, glancing out the window as Delilah came running for the door, holding a folder over her head as if that would stop the rain from pelting her. She blew through the door, bringing the wet with her when she held it open for the boy on crutches.

"It's just rain. It's not like you're going to melt." He told her.

"Of course she would! Our girl is made of sugar." The woman behind the counter cried.

"Or I'm related to the wicked witch." Delilah said, unwinding her dripping scarf from her neck.

"I'm sure it's the latter." Damian grumbled, shrugging out of his wet coat.

"I should have left you at home." Del retorted as she hung up the coats. The second she turned around and saw Tim standing there, her smile fell just a little.

"Drake. I swear, you're starting to stalk me." She told him, bellying up to the counter beside him. The dark haired woman behind it just snickered as Tim held up his empty hands.

"I'm not. I swear. I just want to help."

"Well, we kind of do a little bit of everything around here." She said, wrapping an arm around Sissy when the girl came to hug her.

"We do tutoring, we have group activities for the kids, we do a bit of big brother big sister shadowing. And then for the parents there are the life coaches, family councilors not to mention the network of parents." After all, sometimes what the parents really needed was to talk to others who had been in their shoes.

Tim opened his mouth, when the girl snapped her fingers. "You like to tinker…" She said, "Do you think you could help a kid with her science project?"

He just surrendered. "I can try." He said, following her to another room where a young girl was working at a table with what appeared to be a mini rover.

"Hey Meg, did you get it to work yet?"

The girl sighed. "Not yet. I think I screwed up on my wiring."

"I would've taken a hammer to it." Del muttered as they approached the table.

"Don't tempt me." The girl warned, flipping one of her long pigtails behind her shoulder. Her eyes fell on the guy who was all but gawking at her little robot.

Delilah just gave the girl a smile. "This is a classmate of mine, Tim. He's harmless." She explained as they watched Tim poke and prod at her project.

Tim held up his hand. "Yes, harmless. Science fair, right?"

"He's a bigger nerd than I am." Del whispered.

"I heard that."

"No you didn't." Del interjected, looking from him then to Megan. " Do you think you can help her get it running?"

"Sure. That is, if you want the help, Miss Megan."

"Yes! I'm about to lose my marbles." The child groaned, resting her head in her hands.

Del grinned, slapping Tim on the back. "Make sure she does the work, you're only the help."

"Yeah, yeah, okay." He said, waving her off.

"So! Shall we open it up?"

* * *

By noon the rain had yet to let up. It pelted Gotham without mercy, sending any bystanders on the street scurrying for shelter when the lightning cracked across the sky. Damian peered over his book, watching his sister's hands work in tandem with the young boy at the piano, the music was soft, sweet even. It seemed to add to lull of the place.

He watched her hand reach up and turn to the last page in the music, her eyes however stayed on Max's hands. When the last note faded from the air, the room burst into applause.

"How do you feel about that recital now?"

"Good."

Del squeezed the kid around the shoulders, before working herself up from the bench. "You'll do great."

Dotty, the woman behind the counter popped her head up. "Some lunch was dropped off; it's in the break room." She told them, just as a robot came zipping into the front room.

"It's alive!" A girl with pigtails cried. Damian didn't miss the subtle nod that went from his sister to Timothy Drake. He couldn't help but frown.

"I'm going to let the rest of the staff know there's grub." Delilah said high-fiving the little girl with the remote in her hand before she disappeared down the hall.

Max darted to another room, returning to the piano with a Zesti cola bottle in his hand.

"Make sure to use a coaster, Maestro." Dotty warned the boy. He quickly righted the situation before twisting the top off. But instead of facing the keys he turned to Damian. He wanted to converse? Oh, fantastic.

"Clean break or a fracture?" he asked gesturing to the black cast on Damian's foot.

"Break."

"And you were walking on it yesterday?" Tim asked, raising a brow.

"_Dang_."

Damian rolled his eyes, as the boy took a swig of his drink.

"You two are easily impressed." He told them, watching Del return with a big box, she set it on the table.

"Dotty, remind me to pop in at Gino's and thank them profusely."

The room slipped into a soft harmony, part soft conversation, part rain and thunder. Del had eased herself beside her brother, sitting lotus style on the cushion, as she turned his book over in her hands. _Titus Andronicus_.

"Why am I not surprised?" She asked. "I should be, I mean, you're ten."

"What is it?" Tim asked, stopping to take a bite of his sandwich.

"Titus." She said simply, putting the book back where he had it, when Max slowly eased himself up from sitting on the floor. He was pulling at his shirt, his young face looking pinked.

"Max? You alright?"

"Not one of Shakespeare's more popular works." Tim said, watching Del unfold herself, her brow wrinkled. Something wasn't right.

"It's hot." Max complained, as he faced the piano.

Tim was pulling himself up when the boy turned around, catching a hold of Del before he hit the ground. It was only when Sissy let out an ear piercing scream did he realize there was blood all down the front of Delilah's shirt.

"MAX!" Eyes wide and wild, Del quickly turned the boy over, trying to keep him from choking on the blood that was starting to ooze from his mouth. "CALL 911! NOW!" out of the corner of her eye she caught the half empty bottle of Zesti cola sitting on top of the piano. _No. No. NO!_

"Del, they're not going to get here fast enough. Memorial is two streets down." Tim told her, scooping the boy up.

Del only nodded, prying Sissy from Tim's leg when he went to dash out the door carrying the brother. Only when Damian grabbed the screaming girl did Del make a move for the door. "Find all the Zesti cola bottles. Bag them!"

"Zesti cola?"

"Just do it!" She cried, darting out into the rain.

* * *

Tim forced himself to swallow, even against the sound of the thunder or his own feet splashing through the stagnate water that washed across the sidewalk from the road, he could hear the gurgle of blood in the boy's throat.

"Hold on, Buddy, just hold on." He managed, trying to grip the boy closer to him, but his hands were slick with blood. The water behind him would turn from red to pink as he cut through the streets, trying to dodge umbrella toting bystanders. Some would curse and yell but the second some would get a glimpse; their hands would fly to their mouths. Was this city so terrified that no one had the balls to try to help him?

Behind him he could hear the sound of blaring horns. He glanced back just in time to see a bloodied Delilah jump and slide across the hood of a taxi. "Just keep going!" she yelled over the clamor of the storm, the cabby's shouts chasing her down the street.

She reached the doors of Gotham Memorial before him, because the second Tim made it through the threshold, the half dead boy was whisked from his arms, as if they knew. The second his arms were empty, Tim sank to the floor right there in the lobby, certain his lungs would burst.

Delilah still had the intercom microphone in her had when she slid to the floor by the nurse's station, oblivious to the flurry of chaos they had brought with them. All she could do was give Tim a nod, and slowly count to ten.

Del pressed herself against the wall, letting her hands hang over her knees. Her clothing was clinging to her now, warm from her body heat but still sopping wet. She reeked of the rusty twang of blood it was all too familiar smell that had bile lingering at the back of her throat. The boy beside her had his eyes cast down to his bloody hands as they sat limp in his lap.

"I hate this place." He grumbled, leaning his head back on the wall.

"Preaching to the choir." Delilah croaked, watching nurses and doctors move through the halls. Del leaned her head back, closing her eyes to trying to tune out the low chaotic hum of the place, when a familiar voice had her opening her eyes once more.

"Del?!

_Sam._

The bruises across her face had lessened, turning an almost gray color, rather than the dark blackish blue tone that Delilah remembered. Her face still looked painfully inflamed. No doubt the eye patch was to protect the eye that had almost swollen shut. Fresh guilt bubbled to the surface.

"Sam…" Del was working her way back up, when Mrs. Cleary snatched Sam closer to her. The woman looked at her wide eyed. "Why am I not surprised? Whose blood do you have on your hands now?"

"Is that really necessary?" Tim asked, looking up at the woman.

"Mark my words, you hang around this girl, you're going to end up paying the price."

"Sam, take your mother and go. The bill has been paid." Delilah said, surprising herself by how steady the words had left her. Sam didn't waste another second; she pulled her mother's arm, trying to drag her toward the receptionist window in the lobby.

"Mom, just let it go. We're going home, _just let it go_. Del I'll-"

"You'll do nothing." Delilah said firmly, biting back the apology that wanted to crawl from her lips when she say the hurt wash over Sam's swollen face.

"You really meant it…"

"I did."

The second Del could no longer see Sam or her mother; she put her head on her knees.

"What was _that_?" Tim asked, tilting his head at the girl. "You and Sam are like-"

"Not anymore!" Del spat, realizing how bitter the words tasted in her mouth. That seemed to surprise him. She couldn't even look at him. "It was my fault." She said softly. "Again."

Tim was plotting his words carefully when a white coat came from the same room that Max Collins had been taken. "Delilah?"

Dr. Elliot seemed a little stunned, but he slowly crouched down in front of the girl. "I'm starting to see you in here a little too much." He said gravely, gesturing for the kids to stay seated when both of them tried to get up.

"How is he? Will he-"

"He's critical, but with some luck, he might pull through." He shook his head. "You know I'm a surgeon. Why did you have them page _me_?"

"You're very particular. I knew you wouldn't hand the case over to just anyone. You'd pick the best of them."

He nodded, patting her knee as her father and a frantic Mr. Collins came through those sliding doors. Sissy had her slender arms snaked around her father's neck, her face red and eyes swollen from tears. Even now she still looked terrified. _I know just where you are._ She thought. _I've been there._ The memory would be with her forever and there was nothing Del could do to take it back.

"Are you Mr. Collins?" Dr. Elliot asked, taking the father and daughter aside. Delilah was still watching them when her father cut across her vision.

"Are you two okay?"

"Yes, Mr. Wayne." Tim's words were so soft that Delilah nearly missed them.

"Del?"

The girl blinked, taking her eyes off the broken Collins family. "I wish I was numb." She whispered. "Because this…this will never be okay."

Delilah couldn't describe what she saw flickering across her father's face, but when he simply offered her hand she took it, letting him pull her to her feet and right into his arms, pulling her close so she could whisper to him.

"It's the same...came out of a Zesti Cola bottle. I told Damian to bag it."

"Good."

With that he released her, and gave Tim a hand up. "Tim ran him all the way here." Delilah murmured.

"Says the girl who beat me here."

"I wasn't carrying an eight year old boy." Delilah argued, watching him eye the floor. What was the use of praising a good deed when it could be all in vain? She could read it on his face.

"At least he has a chance." Her father told him. "A chance he might not have had otherwise."

* * *

There was no stopping the constant replay in her head. She could still see the shimmer of fear in Max's eyes when he latched onto her. How frightened he became when the blood that should have stayed in his body started to pour from his mouth. He had grabbed onto her because she was the rock, the one who made everything right. And what did she do? Nothing. She did nothing. She couldn't make it stop, she couldn't take his fear away. She didn't even tell him it was going to be okay. Maybe her mind was trying to keep her mouth from telling the boy a lie.

"I didn't even try to console him." Del whispered, listening to her footsteps echo through the halls of Dick's apartment building. He only glanced at her when they stopped at his door. "Stop that." He told her, pushing the door open.

"I shouldn't even be here. I should be-"

"Uh-uh no bat cave. If I left you at home there's a 1000% chance you would do something insanely stupid."

"You say my ideas are stupid anyway." She whispered, wandering toward the wall to floor windows.

"Boss's orders. You're thinking with your emotions, not your head." He said, slinging his leather jacket over the back of the sofa.

"As if you've never done that." Del shot back, watching her reflection trace the trails of the rain with her finger tip. From here the city was beautiful. The buildings were all aglow, shining like beacons in the darkness. And yet, the girl knew that the closer to the earth a person was, the darker the city would become.

"I have. It's dangerous."

The girl let her arms fall limply to her side as she finally turned away. "I should be doing _something_." she cried. "If you guys don't want me to go out-fine! But I could be running tests and taking samples right now."

Dick shook his head. "Damian took a sample from the bottle that Max opened. He's running the test."

The girl just stared. "Damian? _He's_ running the test? She didn't know if she should be shocked or horrified. "Oh, that's just great!"

"Yes, Demon Spawn is running the test; you know your Dad's going to double check it." He said, watching her crumble on the sofa. Like any good brother he worked his way to her, sitting on the coffee table in front of her.

"Hey. No, don't do that." He said, pulling her hands from her face when she rested her head in her hands.

"I just-I just have this really, _really_ bad feeling..."

"You don't know what's going to happen." He told her, giving her hands a squeeze.

"So where is this Robin prospect of yours?" She asked, changing the subject all together. Dick could have rolled his eyes. Father like daughter.

"He'll be around shortly. Food should be on its way too."

Delilah shoved herself from the sofa, pulling her hands from her brother's grip. "Is he skilled?"

"Very. Martial artist with a good sense of discipline and self-control. And he's smart. I almost want to say he's got a bit of experience with acrobatics too, but he could stand to learn a thing or two."

Delilah couldn't help it, she shot him a smirk. "No one is better at that than you of course."

He chuckled. "Only one comes close, and that's because she has this awesome instructor."

"Did she ever mention how much of a butthead he could be?"

Dick held up his hands as he plopped himself on the couch. "Yeah, but you don't want to hear what he says about _her_." He said reaching for the remote, stopping only to block the pillow she threw at him.

"So I'm thinking…_Tombstone_." This is the part where one of them would start the one liners. He half expected her to come off with 'I'll be your huckleberry.' But instead she came to the side of the couch and stood there, holding a pamphlet in her hand.

"Bludhaven?"

Dick took a breath and let it out. "I was going to talk to you about that." He stated, turning the TV right back off.

"So…you really are thinking of leaving. Is that why you want another Robin so badly?" At least her voice came out calm, conversational even.

"No. Yes. Maybe just a little?" He could see that look swimming in her eyes, like her heart was tens seconds away from being ripped out and there was nothing she could do about it. Oh, but Dick Grayson knew why. From the day she arrived she had been his shadow. "I'm not leaving you, just Gotham."

The girl bit on her lip, not quite sure how she felt, she just turned to the door when someone began to knock.

"And that would be the food."

"Remember this spot. We're not done with this conversation." She told him as she pulled the door open. Tim was standing there holding a white paper bag. For a long moment, all she could do was stare at him. Now all his sudden interest made sense. _He_ was the Robin prospect.

"Hey…again."

Delilah threw the door closed, leaving him out there in the hall.

"You're kidding me." She muttered, sitting down on the arm of the sofa when Dick went to the door himself.

"So you've met."

Del glared at him. "You _know_ we have. We go to the same school, Genius."

"Oh, good. This won't be awkward then."

"The hell you say-"

"You guys know I can hear you, right?" Tim asked through the door.

"All I'm asking is that you hear him out." Dick said, watching the girl huff at the ceiling.

"Okay." She groaned, sliding to her feet when Tim came through the door, looking rather sheepish.

"There better be pot stickers in that bag."

* * *

"You're totally mad at me." Tim noted, watching the girl pick at the food on her plate. Not that he could blame her, after today his appetite wasn't on the radar either. Del just let the chopsticks fall with a clatter, shoving the plate away.

"Yeah. She's mad."

Dick immediately plucked the untouched food off her plate. "Eh, she's not mad at _you_. She was caught off guard and now she's beating herself up about it."

"Shut up, Dick."

"You're not psychic." He told her as she pushed herself away from the table. Damn if he wasn't right. Was she angry at Tim? No. But she had an inkling something was off, why didn't she act on it? Why didn't she corner him and confront him?

Tim turned in his chair, watching her pause at the window, tipping her head back as if she was staring up at the sky trying to see something other than concrete and glowing windows.

"He's getting closer to that edge isn't he?"

The words seemed to put a shock down her spine. True, Batman was slowly starting to shed more blood than he'd ever been known to. And while he was still clinging to his morals, even she knew it wouldn't take much to sway him now. How many times had Dick or Commissioner Gordon pull him back from the brink? And if Dick really left Gotham… _Oh, God_.

"Yes." She whispered, watching her breath fog on the glass. "I don't think Batman has been the same since…" _Jason. _But no one in the room would say his name. Not even her. Now it just seemed like a far off memory.

The girl pressed her head against the cool glass. "He does need more help out there." She said, listening to one of them rummage around. "Dick, if you leave…" Del's words hung there when she turned toward them. All she could do was stand there, defeated.

"I'm not going anywhere until I'm sure Bats is stable." He assured her, watching her shoulders slump at his words. "Nor am I going to leave you shorthanded. That's why _we_ need _your_ help."

Del sat on the instep that broke up the large space. "What could I possibly do?"

"Despite what you think, he listens to you. He's more likely to think this through if you're backing it."

The girl pressed her elbows into her knees as Tim came and settled beside her with his long legs. He handed her a stack of papers.

"What's this?"

"Did you notice anything weird about the accident yesterday?" he asked, staring up at the ceiling. Dick really needed to learn how to dust his ceiling fans.

"Yeah, the branch looked like it had a perfect break halfway through. Like it was cut."

Del looked down at the papers, realizing they were the volunteer forms from Quest Kids.

"How did you get these?"

"I'm just borrowing them." He told her. "I'll put them back, but you know who normally comes and goes. I don't."

The girl shot him a scowl, but carefully started to go through the stack. For a moment Tim was sure the lead was dead, but when Del's brows started to knit together all bets were off. It was enough to have Dick moving to stand behind her just to get a peek.

"Dr. Thomas Elliot." He read over her shoulder.

"I don't remember seeing him there."

"Maybe that was before you showed up. You never know, he could have gotten an emergency call."

"Plausible deniability, whatever, he's still creepy." She said, shaking her head. Out of the stack, there were only a couple of names she didn't recognize. "I just…I don't get the motive. Why go after the Collins? They're an average working class family. I'm sure he struggles from time to time, but I doubt Mr. Collins was into anything that could come back on his kids."

Del let the last paper in her hands flutter to the floor. Unless it wasn't the Collins they were after…

"Mom. Sam. Max. Out of all the cases those three have one thing in common." She said softly, wringing her hands so tight that almost looked bloodless. "Me."

"You're mother's death was a homicide wasn't it?" Tim asked carefully, as if the words might set her off. But the girl only looked at the floor as she nodded.

"Yeah. The report says she bled out from her injuries. But when Bats ran a tox screen on her, he found high levels of MDMA and venom in her blood. The same mixture was found in all of the Zesti Cola cases. Sam was injected with the same concoction."

"So there could be a copycat."

"Gotham isn't short on crazy people." Dick told them, scrunching his brow when there was a knock on the door.

Delilah only bobbed her head, as she gathered the forms, paying no mind to Dick when he crossed the space. "That's what I'm thinking. Someone's just using it to their advantage. I just…I don't know who."

"Bruce."

Hearing her father's name, Del slowly rose to her feet, unsure of what to make of his grave set face. He didn't even greet Dick; he just ambled toward the girl. Every single step filled her with dread.

"Del..." Too soft.

The forms slid from her fingers in a cascade of paper as Delilah brought a hand to her mouth. She was already shaking her head. "No. No, no, _no_."

Standing there, all Bruce could do was swallow the knot that hung in his throat. He had no choice but to watch his daughter's chest heave as she tried to fight against the onslaught of emotions. Tim was gathering the papers she dropped, he managed to keep his head down, but his face was ashen.

The life they had fought so hard to save…was gone.


	14. Jason

**A/N: ** Here's the next one. Took a little longer than I thought. It was running a little long on me. And the fact that I've written this chapter a couple times now probably doesn't help. (Darn computer.) I hope you guys like this one! It's 2:30 in the morning and now I'm going to drag myself to bed. With any luck chapter 15 will be early! (A lot going on in that one, you'll get the gist I'm sure.)

* * *

_Jason_. Only a handful of good moments even exist between us. Such small things, things a then fourteen-year-old boy didn't know how to treasure. Or for that matter, a four year old would know to miss. There was no love lost between the pair of us. At times I'm sure we loved to hate one another. Almost as if that was a game in itself.

But I'm going to tell you a secret, a secret I'm sure Jason thought he had kept to himself. Despite all the animosity, the terrible words we said to each other or even the agonizing silences, Jason always looked out for me. Of course, looking back on it now, it seems as plain as day. But guilt often speaks volumes when nothing is being said at all.

My first December at Wayne Manor was the coldest I've ever known. I remember feeling excited as I stood there shivering at my window, watching the snow as it sparkled in the breaking light. To my four year old self, it was a winter wonderland made of big fat snow snowflakes and gleaming ice. Through the leafless trees I could see the glint of the ice on the pond, and just like that I was with my mother again.

I could feel her hands on mine; I could feel the cold nipping at my nose. If I closed my eyes at just the right moment, I could still feel that ticklish feeling of glee fluttering around in my stomach when she would spin me in circles.

The memories were all it took to get me rifling through my closet for my ice skates. I crept from my room, finding my way in dusky light, trying with all my might to keep from making a sound. I crouched on the staircase, watching the shadows flicker across the light that spilled from the kitchen. _Alfred_. I tiptoed down the stairs, shoes in one hand, and the ice skates over my shoulder. The second my feet touched the floor I made a dash for the door. I stood there with the knob in my hands, so sure that Alfred would catch me when I didn't hear the sound of dishes clinking anymore. But just as soon as the activity stopped, the soft clamor began again. The knob twisted soundlessly beneath my gloves. The instant the door was open wide enough I slid out into the icy world, with none the wiser.

I was clear. Pushing my feet into my boots, I all but plowed my way into the fresh drifts of snow, twisting and twirling as if I were nothing more than a snow flake myself drifting down to this frozen world. When I was far enough away from the house, I plopped down right there, feeling my body sink in the icy fluff. Above me there was nothing but clouds and the swirls of flakes that floated through the air. I was so fixated on the little specks, that when I felt someone nudge me with the toe of their boot, I jumped.

"Seriously, Pipsqueak?" Jason's jeans were damp up to his knees. Even in this twilight, I could tell that his hands and ears were red and raggedy. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

I flopped back down in the snow. "What's it look like?" I asked snippily, bringing my arms up and down to my sides, feeling the snow compact beneath me. Jason just tilted his head at me, watching me as I peeled myself off the ground to inspect my handiwork.

"Needs horns."

"Nuh-uh! Make your own!" I told him, shoving him away when he bent down to doodle in the snow. For a long moment he just stood there and stared at me.

"Like this." I said, flopping down into a fresh canvas of snow. The boy sighed, and turned away, I was certain he'd march himself right back to the house, leaving me in peace, but he just stood there, staring at the snow covered ground. When he finally slumped down, I couldn't help it, I think I grinned at the sky.

"This is stupid. You know that, right?"

"So…you're doing something stupid, what else is new?" The second the words left me in little wispy clouds, I was hit in the face with a clump of mushy snow. Instinct told me to retaliate, even if my hands could only hold a quarter of what he threw at me. Needless to say, when the snow hit his coat, it sounded like nothing more than rain on a canvas.

"Weak." He called, tossing more snow in my direction. I don't know how long we carried on like throwing miscellaneous snowballs as the sound of our coats sliding across the snow filled the silence.

I was dusting myself off, trying to ignore the feeling of snow melting underneath my jacket. Jason was just standing there, staring at the ground, the fresh snowfall powdering hair. I could see the scorn rolling across his face as he eyed the shape his body left behind. He immediately stomped across it.

"I can't make angels." He said, the bitterness dripping from his voice like poison. He started stalking his way back toward the manor, and I, I could only stand there, watching him grow smaller the further he wandered away, unsure of what to make of his display. When I couldn't see him anymore, I forced myself into the trees, leaving our imprints there in the slush as I tried to shake it off.

The second I slid onto the ice, Jason was forgotten. The wind was nibbling on my ears, as I glided across the surface. Unlike the places I was used to, the ice wasn't smooth as glass. It was bumpy and ridged beneath my blades. But I continued anyway, shakily catching myself when I thought I was going to hit the ice face first.

I could imagine her with me. It was as if I was chasing her ghost around that pond, tricking myself into seeing her when a ray of clouded light would slip through the barren branches. The air was enough to make my throat ache, if I slowed down I'm sure I would have noticed how numb my face and hands were feeling. I should have stopped long ago, but the bliss…I couldn't let it go. I didn't want to. I hadn't let myself be happy in those last few months, and now it was just overwhelming. But as my delight grew, so did my over confidence. All it took was a simple stumble to remind me what my recklessness wrought.

I don't remember what it felt like when I hit the ice. I do remember the prick of panic I felt when I heard the ice begin to crack. "No." I slowly wobbled to my feet, unsure of how to move, now that the smooth surface was splintering beneath me. I remember trying to edge my way toward the shore, but then the ice gave away completely. I don't even think I had time to scream.

My breath seemed to leave me instantly when I fell into the water's icy grasp. It was if I was being stabbed over and over. No matter how I struggled to reach the light that pierced through ice, the water just got darker and darker. My skate was tangled in the debris on the pond floor, and no matter how I pulled I couldn't yank it free. My lungs burned, begging me to take a breath. As the last bubble burst from me, a gray sort of light broke into the darkness.

I don't remember Jason cutting the laces of my boot, I just remember him pushing me toward the surface. He shoved me back through the opening, letting my lungs take a deep ragged breath. Before I knew it, he was lifting me out of the water before climbing out himself. All I could do was sit there and cough as I spat up water.

"You little idiot!" He snapped at me, biting on his lips to keep his teeth from chattering.

Jason forced me to my feet and started pushing me toward the house. I was still stumbling in the snow when I heard a clatter from inside. Alfred came flying out the door. "Good Heavens!" He cried, snatching me up. Jason wasn't behind me; he was nowhere to be seen.

"What were you doing out there?!"

"J-just s-s-skating." I stammered, trying to control my shivering. I was shaking so hard it made my muscles ache. Alfred threw yet another blanket on top of me.

"Stick another blanket on her and you're going to suffocate the squirt."

I eyed Jason as he moseyed into the living room and threw himself on the couch. His clothes were dry; his hair was damp and smelling of soap. Alfred only scoffed at him. "I'm going to fetch some warm water bottles. Don't move from this spot." He instructed, pointing his bony finger at the floor. The second he left the room, I reared my head up at the boy, feeling the heat of fire lick the side of my face.

"You-"

He just pressed his finger to his lips. The universal sign for one to keep their trap shut. He saved my life and it was our secret to keep. Whether he was doing it to save me or himself, I never knew. I didn't have the chance to ask.

"What's going on in here?"

I kept my eyes forward, watching my clothes drip as they hung by the fire. "Hell if I know, ask Alfred." He's been burying her in blankets." I heard Jason grumble. I didn't have to hear my father's footsteps to know he was walking toward me.

"Delilah…"

"I s-s-s-saw t-the pound was f-frozen." I sputtered, watching the red and yellow hues of the flames melt together, sending sparks up into the air.

"Apparently, Miss Wayne decided to go ice skating." Alfred added, toting a couple of warm water bottles. "At 6 in the morning." He made short work of putting them in the blankets with me.

"I f-fell and it broke." I managed, trying not to jerk my head away when my father reached over and grabbed my chin so I would have no choice but to look at him.

"It's a miracle she was able to get herself out." Alfred said, tossing another log on the fire for good measure.

"I g-grabbed the ice when…" I bit down, as my teeth clacked together, trying to make sure I didn't try to look in Jason's direction. My first lie and it was felt no less guilty.

"Why? Why did you sneak out like that? Why didn't you wait?" He let my chin go and all I could do was stare at my hands, stare at the white scars that wrapped around my fingers. "I-I-" I just my head. "Mama used t-to I-" I just sat there and shook, I couldn't even string a few sentences together, I finally just gave up and shrugged.

"Stupid, Stupid Kid. You could have drowned! Tell me, tell me you understand that."

I just sat there blinking at him, not realizing I was tearing up and until he pressed my head into his chest. "_Don't ever_ leave this house without letting one of us know." I could feel the words humming from his chest before I heard them with my ears. All I could do was sit there and nod, watching Jason through the blur of my tears. I kept his secret, I owed him that. Hell, I owed him my life. I still do.

* * *

"God of all mystery, whose ways are beyond understanding,

lead us, who grieve at this untimely death,

to a new and deeper faith in your love…"

Delilah kept her head bowed, trying to keep her eyes on the fallen leaves at her feet. The trees had shed them quickly this year, leaving a carpet of red, orange and yellow foliage scattered among the headstones.

"…which brought your only Son Jesus

through death into resurrection life.

We make our prayer in Jesus' name.

Amen."

"Amen." The girl whispered, letting her eyes fall on small black casket. Even now, in this flock of black attire and tears, it felt so surreal. He was only eight. Had she not been sandwiched between her father and Dick, she might have sunk to the soggy earth. _I'm dreaming, I have to be…_

Delilah closed her eyes, listening to the wind hiss through the bare branches over their heads leaving a mournful sound howling at her ears. Only when she felt a soft tug on the hem of her coat did the girl open her eyes, forcing herself to look down at Sissy Collins.

The girl eased herself down to kneel, hesitating for the space of a breath when the little thing threw her thin arms around Del's neck. _I'm sorry._ But the words were trivial and bitter. All she could do was hold the tiny body close to her as she pulled herself up from her knees, well aware that Mr. Collins was watching her every move.

With the little thing's wet cheeks pressed into her neck, the teen was begging for the right words to come to her, but perhaps there was nothing one could say. She simply took the edges of the girl's scarf and dabbed the tears off her face. But when the child turned and did the same to Del, the teen was sure she couldn't breathe. "Thank you for that." She whispered, giving her one more squeeze as the girl's father approached to collect her. It was almost as if the man was coming to snatch his child from the jaws of wolves.

Mr. Collins couldn't even look Del in the eye; he simply scooped up his daughter, and thanked them for coming. All the girl could do was stare at the man's back as he stalked his way across the graveyard, back into the arms of his family. He never gave the Wayne's a second glance.

"He blames me…doesn't he?" She whispered, when her father turned her in the other direction, pulling her eyes away from the sight of the tiny coffin as it was lowered into the earth.

"He's just grieving; it's a lot to process. Children aren't meant to die before their parents."

_You know all about that, don't you, Dad?_ Del bit the words back, only giving her father a glance. Snagging his hand, she gave the chilly thing a squeeze, saying nothing as he squeezed back. When the boys started for the car, she paused.

"I'm…I'm going to walk home. I need to clear my head."

All Bruce could do was nod to her. "Don't make me come looking for you." He said ducking in the car after Damian worked himself in with his crutches.

"Do you want me to-"

The girl shook her head. "I'll be okay, Dick, but thank you." He seemed to hesitate, but he nodded and slid into the passenger seat. Only when she couldn't see the taillights anymore did she turn to the emptying graveyard.

For a while the girl simply sat there by her mother's marker, watching dirt being thrown over Max Collins' casket a shovel full at a time. She couldn't look away, no matter how hard she tried. "You didn't have to stay, Tim." She said quietly, listening to the grass rustle behind her, she only looked away to glance at the yellow tulip that had fallen by her foot.

"Ouch."

_That voice…_

For a long moment, the girl only stared up at him, blinking her big blue eyes. His hair was dark, like Tim's but everything else was all wrong. His eyes were blue, and he was definitely too tall. Delilah pulled herself to her feet, rising slowly as she tucked the stray hairs that whipped across her face behind her ear.

"Jason…" She took a step back, not wanting to be trapped between him and her mother's headstone. He should have looked like a young man in his late twenties, just like Dick, but what she saw before her looked like a young man who was barley twenty at all.

"Hey, Pipsqueak."

"What are you- Did you-" She choked on the words, trying to keep her emotions in check when he showed her his empty palms.

"No." He said quickly, snatching her by the arm when she tried to storm off in the other direction. Del twisted, hitting his chest to keep from falling. "I didn't do this. I swear." The words came out of his mouth like a confession. "I don't kill kids." When he felt her arms slide around him, he was utterly still, not quite sure what to do with the show of affection until he just gave up and let his arms collapse around her, trying not to get lost in the warmth of her breath as it puffed against his shirt.

"But you _do_ kill…" She said evenly, pulling away from him. She could only watch him as he reached into his coat to retrieve his guns, only they weren't there. They were in her hands.

"Cute." He grumbled. "Couldn't just hug a guy, could you?"

When he reached to grab them from her, he twisted the guns in her hands. It gave the girl enough of an opportunity to squeeze the release latches and rip off the slides, effectively dismantling them. Delilah wasted no time and hurled the metal pieces.

"That's just mean." Jason told her, wincing when he heard one splash into a water feature that was somewhere behind him. Del on the other hand was marching away from him, squeezing her fists so hard she could feel her nails digging into her palms.

"Get away from me." She warned, listening to his footsteps as he jogged after her.

"Wait! I need you to hear me out." The second his fingers dug into her shoulder, Del spun on her heel. He was too close to effectively duck her swing.

"Right…like you gave Sam a chance?!" She cried, watching him rub his cheek. "You beat her!"

"That wasn't me; I only took her from her room…" Jason paused, watching the color fade from Delilah's face. "Wait, this isn't coming out right-"

"My best friend was stolen from her home in the middle of the night and beaten within an inch of her life. She's lost the use of her kidneys." Delilah snapped. "So what if you didn't do it. That doesn't mean shit to me." The girl paused, letting her hands slap to her sides. "You let it happen, Jason."

"I didn't have a choice."

"BULLSHIT! There's always a choice!" She shouted, "Like right now. I'm making the choice to leave before I bash your fucking ribs in." Before she could utter another word, Del whipped herself in the other direction, determined to walk away.

"You sound like _him_."

"Good!" She called out without even looking back. She had her eyes locked on the cemetery gate when she heard his hurried footsteps behind her once more. She immediately stepped out of her heels, paying no mind when the damp ground caused the bottoms of her feet to feel numb. The second she could feel his shadow she twisted toward him with a roundhouse kick. He caught her foot with a smack, and swept her leg out from under her.

"Don't. You'll trigger it." He said, letting her go the second her body hit the ground. But she was already rolling over and back up on her feet. It was already too late to stop. He went at her.

* * *

Tim had his icy hands jammed into the pockets of his coat as he trailed around the wispy bare trees that lined the back of cemetery. He had tried; God knows he had tried to stay for the entirety of Max's funeral. He just…couldn't. It wasn't like Timothy Drake had never felt the reverberations of death before.

His own mother had been taken from this world way before her time. But never had he seen it in such gory detail. Closing his eyes, he could still see the fear shining in the boy's eyes; he could still hear the blood gurgling in his throat. Jesus Christ. And someone was making this happen? The thought had him clenching his fingers into a fist.

"_BULLSHIT! There's always a choice!"_

The echoing shout had the teen's head popping up. He knew that voice, the thought was all but dragging him down the hill. When he spotted Delilah and some unknown assailant trading blows, he found himself jumping over the head stones trying to get to the bottom of the hill.

_He moves like an assassin_. The thought was a damning one indeed. After all, Del only had a handful of practices with the little Demon Spawn under her belt. It wasn't enough to mirror him or match him. He wasn't a ten year old boy that was closer to her height. Jason was a six foot man who most definitely outweighed her. And the fact she was doing this barefoot and in slacks…that didn't make things any easier. At least she was a bit more agile than him. But it was the only card she had to play.

It was taking everything she had just to block his blows. "No wonder Damian shish-kabobed your ass." Del hissed ducking under his foot when he kicked out at her. It certainly would have been easier, but having a weapon in her hands would be all too tempting.

Her hands caught his other foot as he spun around again, this time the girl hit the dirt, knocking his leg out from under him. When Jason hit the ground with a thud, the girl pulled herself from her crouch, watching him leap back to his feet.

"What? No snarky comments? No banter? That's not like you." She breathed, sliding her stance back. But Jason never replied. Looking at him, Del saw nothing. Like the night on the rooftop, his eyes were dead. His face was blank. _You'll trigger it_. Is this what he meant?

When he came at her she veered back, aware that he had drove her in a direction she didn't want to go. He was corralling her against the fence. _Fuck._ She was trying not to think about the rocks jabbing her feet, as she dodge his next swing. "There's always a choice. Make the choice!" She cried, taking a step back to put some space between them, but now there were bars at her back. "Come on, Jason! Whatever this is, you're letting it control you! "

Del grabbed the bars behind her, ignoring how her skin stuck to the cold metal. She was preparing to pull her legs up so she could knock him back when he was all but taken out from the side. Del pulled herself from the fence, paying no mind when she felt her sticking flesh rip from her fingers. Tim had knocked him flat.

Jason wasted no time to get up. He swung and kicked, all the while Tim was evading him, filling the cemetery with the sound of their contact. "JASON!" He flinched, but it was enough for Tim to launch off of the top of a headstone and roundhouse the man, causing his head to snap back into a tree. When Jason's body slid to the ground, Delilah was running, feeling the pine needles and burs of the over grown brush cling to her.

"Delilah, wait!" Tim snapped, hopping off of the tombstone when the girl crouched by the man's side.

But Del didn't even shoot him a glance; she simply ran her fingers over Jason's skull. Nothing there. "He knocked you out cold." She told him as she checked his vitals with the tips of her fingers. When he twitched she jumped to her feet. "There's always a choice, Jason. It just won't always be the one you want to make."

"Are you okay?" Tim asked, working his way out of the over grown bush. The second he saw Delilah's hands he grabbed them, not noticing the wave of surprise that washed across her face.

"That's gotta smart." He said to her as he dug into his pocket, pulling out a white handkerchief.

"They still make those? I thought they stopped doing that in our grandparent's heyday."

"Smart ass." He retorted, but when he went to press it around her hand she yanked it away.

"I don't want to ruin it." She told him, letting her hand fall to her side, but he was having none of it, he simply reached over and snatched her hand again.

"Blood washes out." He said, feeling her hand jerk when he wrapped it.

"Thank you." She murmured, bending down to retrieve her shoes when he let her hand fall.

"So who's the guy?"

Delilah's eyes snapped back to where Jason's body should have been laying, but the space was empty. "Jason Todd." She said quietly, trying not to flinch when his eyes widened. Apparently Dick had told a few tales about Jason.

"Didn't he – Isn't he supposed to be-"

"Dead?" The word felt strange as it fell out of her mouth. "That's what we thought too. We thought wrong." Without another word she crept through the cemetery gate, Tim close behind her.

It was easy to fall in a comfortable silence with Tim. She'd given up insisting that she could walk herself home, instead she listened to his soft footfalls beside her as they crossed the large valley that separated the cemetery from Wayne Manor.

"The scars on your hands…where did they come from?" The question surprised her; it almost drove her to self-consciously stare at her hands. She forced herself to stare up at the brooding sky instead. "The night my mom died…there was a lot of glass. I ended up cutting up my hands and my feet."

Tim stared down at the grass as if he were carefully picking his words. "Sam said Batman saved your life…"

"The same night. He busted right through our living room window and took out the gunmen. He called my mom by name. I guess it never dawned on me until I was older what that meant. I just remember him putting his hands on mine…and I begged and begged for him to save her." Delilah stopped and shook her head. "Knowing that it was my own father all this time… and that I asked that of him. It kills me a little." The girl put her hand in front of her mouth. "I'm sorry, that's probably more detail than you'd ever want to know, it's just…when people ask, there's a lot I can't normally say."

But the dark haired boy only nodded. "Don't worry about it." When they shifted back into silence again, Del was sure she had caused it. But then he opened his mouth.

"He saved my dad." Tim said quietly, letting the sound of their feet moving through the grass fill the silence between his words. "My parents were in Haiti when they were taken hostage by a holy man. Batman was able to save my dad…but my mom, she didn't make it." He said, watching Wayne Manor grow with every step they took. "She was poisoned too…" he added, his voice almost a whisper. "It was in the water they drank."

_What a thing to have in common. _

"I really do want to help." Tim said as they paused on the edge of the Wayne property line.

"I know. I know you do." She couldn't even look at him; she just listened to his footsteps as he turned away.

"I wish we could have saved him…"

"Me too…" But her whisper seemed to be swallowed by the wind.

* * *

"What happened to you?"

Delilah paused at the bottom of the stairs, watching her father pace back and forth in the glow of the bat-computer. At Dick's words he paused.

"Minor dispute with some brush…" she muttered, brushing at the pine needles that were still clinging to her pants. At least in this light they couldn't see the mud blending into the fabric. But the girl's eyes immediately went to the screen. Damian had his elbows resting by the keyboard, with his hands fisted in front of his mouth. A pose she had often seen her father strike. She immediately crossed the space, trying to ignore the feel of her father's stare on her back.

"It's the same…" Damian said, not even letting his eyes break from the monitor. "Found some fingerprints on the carton they came in, running a check on those now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I ran the second test." Her father told her. The girl tried not to flinch when he filled the space beside her and picked up her wrapped hand. "We're also running a comparison test with some of the same agents that Poison Ivy has been known to use, she's been back in town for some time." His scrutinizing eyes moved from her to her hand. "What's this?"

"No…it's not her." She said softly, yanking her hand from him as she turned away, leaving them to watch her when she moved to the cold storage unit where her father kept samples. "2,1,1,4,5. Two, one, _fourteen_, five. B-A-N-E. The code to Mom's safe."

"He's still in Santa Prisca; he hasn't been in Gotham in years…" Dick interjected, floating closer to the computer himself.

"When was the last time he was here?" Del asked, letting her father practically snatch the vile from her.

"Almost seventeen years."

"Bird." Del felt her heart drop to her feet as the name fell from her father's mouth. Could it really be?

"Would he really? I mean…"

"You two want to share with the class?" At Dick's words, even Damian was twisting in his chair to look at them.

"Bird is Paige's half-brother." Bruce said evenly, glancing over his shoulder at his daughter. The girl had her eyes on the screen, her fingers to her lips as if she were trying to process the very thought that it could be her own family that was out for her blood. Once he had an analysis running the man immediately climbed the platform and headed for his suit.

Feeling someone touch her hand the girl jumped, Dick was turning her hand this way and that in the light of the computer. When his dark eyes fell on the embroidery he pursed his lips. "So..uh, what's this?" He asked raising his brow ever so slightly. The girl immediately put an elbow into his ribs.

"Not what you think, and if you don't pay attention, Bats is going to leave without you."

Dick immediately turned on his heel. Sure enough, Batman was already in the car.

"Can't you just say, 'Get in the car.'?" He asked, quickly abandoning her at the computer. But as he started in that direction he turned and pointed at her. She knew the language. _This conversation isn't finished. _With her hands on her hips, the girl watched the car speed off, knowing full well just who he'd be looking for.

"I see I'm not the only one who'd like to be rid of you." Damian stated as he turned his chair toward her.

"And yet I keep sticking around, I'm annoying like that." Del grumbled, plopping down by at table, aware that the boy was watching her over his hands.

"If he asked you for it, would you give it to him?"

Del touched the glass case that housed the unassuming stone. "Part of me says yes." She said twisting toward him. "The other part just wants to beat him into a bloody pulp…if he never gave it to her..."

_Analysis Complete. _At the sound of the computer, both Wayne children were turning toward the screen. _Print Match._ Damian was leaning into the chair when he heard his sister's stool slam into the table.

"GOD DAMN IT!"

"You know him?" He asked staring up at the man's picture. He looked rather pathetic really.

Del didn't even reply, she stormed over to the computer and ripped the head set off of Damian's head, ignoring him when he spun around at her.

"_Talk_."

"I don't know how, but the prints are a match for Nick St. James." With that the girl tossed the headset back at her brother, who seemed to be studying her. "Bastard killed my mother." She spat before turning and flying up the stairs.

"She has some rage in her after all…"

* * *

Seeing Arkham was nerve racking enough during the day, but here in the darkness, it was a completely different animal. The heat from the bay turned to fog as it mingled with the October air, leaving a dense cloud looming over the lone island. The brush had begun to take hold of the statues at the gate, eerie guardians that held out their lamp light, while the earth continued to swallow them whole.

The girl was in the midst of scaling over the gate when something jolted her. The sound of a tazer was not unfamiliar to her. Not unlike the dread that pricked her when she felt her body lock up. She hit the ground in a shaking heap. Her fingers had barley reach for her small oxygen mouth piece when she heard the sound of boots scuffing against the gravel. If it was Batman or Dick, they wouldn't have used a Taser. Not if one of them knew it was her.

"Sorry about that, Pipsqueak."

She could barely make out his red mask through the haze before the barrel of a rifle came down on her head. Everything went black.

Her whole body ached, her head felt as though it was going to split open. But for a moment the girl just lay still, eyes closed. She could still smell the brine of the bay, but now there was a smell of mold and mildew. Somewhere above her, metal creaked. She could feel the light touch of the wind on her face and the cold hard surface of concrete at her back. Opening her eyes she could see patches of sky bleeding through roof. Old ruins from Arkham's early days?

"It doesn't take much does it?"

It hurt to move her head, but there sitting at his leisure on the floor, was Jason.

"You could have killed me with that." She croaked, forcing herself to sit up. Her hand flew to her head. "You're such an ass-hat."

"It was the only way I could get you to come with me." He said climbing to his feet while Del let her eyes focus. Old medical equipment. It didn't give her the warm and fuzzies.

"Where are we?" She groaned, watching him work his way to an old surgical table.

"The old hospital wing on the back of the property."

When he heard her struggle to her feet he whipped back around. "If you're going to try and yell for Bats and Boy-Wonder, forget it. They left long ago." He told her, watching her stumble as she made it to her feet.

_I'm in over my head…_

"They weren't happy either." He said, trying to gain her to look at him, but her eyes were busy, watching his flashlight glint off of the surgical tools on the table before him.

"Nick St. James…he escaped." She said groggily.

"Not quite. Someone came and collected him."

That made the girl pause. "Did you let him out?!" She cried, her own voice felt raw from the cold.

"No." He said, turning toward her with a scalpel. Del quickly stumbled back, tripping into a pile of old wheelchairs.

"Jason." The name came out like a warning; she reached into her harness only to discover that the harness was gone. _Fuck_. There wasn't a Sam to report to. No one knew where she was. She no longer had her locator since her phone was still in the evidence locker at the GCPD. _I've screwed up. I've screwed up royally._

She was in the midst of trying to flee backwards when he snatched her. She swung, but still feeling disoriented, he just stepped back, catching her when she almost spilled to the floor. She felt the cold metal of cuffs as he slapped them on her wrists. With one swift move, he knocked her on her rump, causing a cloud of dust to rise up in her fall. When he stepped closer, she scrambled to push herself back. When she felt her body hit the wall, she could only look up at him wide eyed. _ He put your hands in front of you…think. There's a way out of this._ She was pulling her feet as far underneath her as she could to spring back up. If she could get her arms over his head with the cuffs, she could head-butt him.

With her eyes on Jason's hands she watched him work himself out of his leather jacket and sling it to the floor. When he pulled pieces of his suit off and then slipped out of his t-shirt, the girl froze. He pressed her against the wall, trapping her body between his arms.

"I need you to help me." He told her, his breath leaving him in a small wisp. "You owe me."

"Wh-what?"

Jason shoved himself from the wall; grabbing the links of her cuffs he dragged her toward the old surgical table. Setting down the scalpel, he grabbed her hand, yanking her glove away to free her fingers.

The muscle in Jason's back rippled when he pressed her hand just above his shoulder blades. "Fuck, your hands are cold." He hissed, pressing the pads of her fingers into his flesh. There was something there. "Feel that?"

The second he let go of her hand, she ran her thumb over the edge of the square object. "What is it?"

"The main chip that makes me does whatever they want." He growled. "They couldn't figure out how to control me, so they figured they'd wire me up like a damn computer so they could override my thought process."

"They didn't think you'd ever be able to think for yourself again…"

She felt him stiffen under her palm. "No. I need you to get it out." He said, snagging a bottle of whiskey off the metal table.

"Wait- I've never. I don't-"

"You owe me, Del. I need to make my own choices, not the ones they want me to make." He said, as he opened the bottle. Delilah only watched as he poured the liquid over the instrument, creating a puddle at their feet.

"What will you do when they notice?"

"Oh, I can play along." He sneered, fishing a lighter out of his pocket to finish sanitizing the scalpel. The handle was still wet when he handed it to her and sat on the stool in front of her. "It's not deep. They've programmed me from being able to cut it out myself, or I would have."

"No antiseptic?" she asked, watching him take a swig from the whiskey bottle.

But Jason was shaking his head as he worked his belt out of jeans. "No. So be quick about it. Don't be a chicken-shit." He told her, handing her a set of tweezers from his pocket as he put the belt between his teeth.

Del watched his flesh rise into Goosebumps, probably from her own cold breath. Putting his flashlight into her mouth, she held the tweezers in one hand, as she began to cut with the other. _Don't you dare jerk. _She told herself, spying the rivulets of blood that had started to roll down his back. _Oh, Jesus. _ Despite feeling the bile creep up her throat, the girl kept her hands steady. In the low light of the flashlight she could see the black edge of the large chip. It was almost the size of a credit card. Working her tweezers into the now gaping incision, she worked the thing from his flesh, trying to ignore his groans when it pulled free.

She let the scalpel drop to the ground and quickly rescued the flashlight from her mouth. "I just have to close it up." She told him, reaching around him for the sewing kit that she had spotted in front of him. She quickly doused the needle with some of the whisky before putting it to the lighter. At least she wasn't a stranger to giving a stitch.

The second she cut the thread, she grabbed a piece of sheet off the table, pouring what was left of the whisky, she rubbed his back, aware of the smell of blood and alcohol mixing together.

"There. We're even now." She said, snaking her hand around him to his pocket. She had just gotten her fingers around the key to her handcuffs when his hand clamped down on her.

"No, we're not…" he said hoarsely, rising from the stool. "I still owe you…" He took the key from her, turned and unlocked the cuffs.

"N-no you don't. You never did."

"Yes, I do. Don't fucking argue with me." He snapped, "Trust me, I wish I didn't." She could only watch him as he bent down to grab his shirt and jacket.

Del found her harness and was slipping it back on, everything else was in its place. "Why, why do you still owe me?" But as the girl turned around she found nothing but an empty room. Sighing she snapped up her mask and mouth piece that was laying on the ground, turning slowly when she heard the sound of a cape ruffling in the air.

Del grimaced as Damian landed on the floor, using his hand to steady himself. Obviously his break hadn't healed all the way, but the cast was gone.

"Following me now?" She asked, working her mask over her head, watching him stalk over to the bloody mess that covered the ground. The boy picked up the large black component. "What have you done?!" he snapped, shooting from his crouch.

"They were controlling him!"

"For everyone else's safety, you idiot! I told you the Jason you knew is dead!"

"Stop it! Did you ever think that maybe the league is in the wrong?!" Delilah retorted.

"You'll see. You have no idea what you've unleashed."


	15. Bruce, Batman, Dad Part 1

**A/N:** It's late, I know- sorries! As you can tell, I had to break this up into parts. (Only two!) I'm trying to hurry and post this, I'll be on vacation for the next week. (unplugged.) So I wanted to make sure I posted something. If I missed some edits, I'll fix them as soon as I get home. There's uh, a lot going to on here. Be warned.

* * *

Help. I'm sorry. Thank you. Three things you won't hear coming out of my father unless civility is forcing his hand - or rather, his mouth. In the years I've grown in the Dark Knight's shadow, I've only heard him thank Nightwing once. To be honest, I think it put Dick into shock. My father is too proud of a man to ever ask for help.

Holidays, birthdays, piano recitals and meets. I've felt his absence during all these things at one time or another. And yet, when I see him slipping out of the room, I can't bring myself to feel bitter. I share him with Gotham in its entirety. I know that he leaves because someone's life is on the line. Apologies? I've never heard one, nor will I ever.

Dad's never been apologetic for what he does, but he regrets everything he's missed, not that he would ever say so. He doesn't have to. I can see it in his face when he's caught staring at pictures he should've been in, or the way he makes that tight smile and say he's proud of me for an accomplishment he never saw.

I sometimes wonder what the world would think of my father if they knew. Would it scoff at the penance of wealthy man, even if he's sacrificed the very things that cannot be bought or replaced? He's given his life to this city, letting it siphon moments of his life he cannot get back.

I suppose that's why I hoard pictures the way I do, as if I'm trying to collect a moment of our lives before it disappears into the abyss. It's all a part of the trade off in this life, the sacrificing and soul sucking. Yes, soul sucking. Make no mistake, the city my father loves is a thankless kind of mistress. It shuns him when times are good, but oh, when there's nowhere else to turn, the city looks to the sky. I like to think that there's still hope for this dark place, but in the back of my mind, I'm afraid Gotham will end him before the good will finally rise.

The sound of the tolling clock chased me down the hall as it echoed through the house. In the dark it was another world entirely. For all the grandeur that my imagination created during the day, there was a fair amount of horror to be played when the shadows of the night would stretch out it's wraith like arms across the walls. I kept moving, trying to tell myself that the corridors weren't growing any darker, that the inky abyss wouldn't reach out to me.

I clutched my book tighter to my chest, trying not to deter myself when the old place groaned and creaked around me. Instead, my eyes locked on the faint light that danced just down the hall. Surely the only safe place to hide would be with the shadow master himself.

I still remember the feel of the carpet under my feet my feet when I wandered into his office. In the faint flicker of the fire I could see him slouched in solitary wingback chair, the weight of his head resting in his hand. Standing there on the blurred edges of the shadows I was so unsure, but my feet were moving, despite any reservations my head might have had. Only the painted gazes of my grandparents saw me creeping forward from the fringe of the room. They weren't about to tattle on me.

I could feel the heat of the fire warming my back as I stood there in front of him. His eyes were closed, but by the sound of the sigh that slipped from him, it was plain that sleep was still eluding him. The second my fingers graced against his hand, his long dark lashes lifted. I don't think he was expecting to see a little girl standing there in her nightgown.

"You should be in bed." He mumbled, letting his hand fall as he forced himself to sit up. The creases in his face told me the simple act was a painful one. At first the only thing I could was look up at him. But the second I bit down my hesitation, I laid my book on the arm of the chair and proceeded to climb into his lap. I'd never done that before, and by the way he sat so still, he seemed just as unsure about the idea.

"I can't sleep either…" I whispered, breathing in the soft smoky sent of the fire as the warmth waded out to us. When he didn't say anything, I reached for the book, watching his eyes flick down to it when I offered it to him. "Can you read this to me?"

He just stared at the glossy blue cover. The logs hissed in the silence, or maybe that was just the sound of his sigh. When he lifted me off the knee on which I had settled, I was certain I'd be put back on the floor. I could only watch his face pinch as he moved me to the opposite side.

"Let's stay on this side." He managed.

"You're hurt again…" I stated, watching him blow out a steady breath. "You get hurt a lot."

"Out of the mouths of babes."

"When are you going to learn?"

The words seemed to summon a soft chuckle from the depths of his chest. It was breathy, strangled kind of sound. But when your ribs are broken laughing is the last thing you want to be doing. To silence me, he cracked the book open, letting me settle into the crook of his arm.

I could hear the sound of the cover pages as they crinkled, but when he came to a page marked by the swooping lines of an ink pen, he paused. He sat there, wordlessly tilting his head. Never lose your muchness, and always believe in the impossible. The words were shaped into a heart with their elegant curves. I touched the page, feeling the grooves the ink had left in the paper until my fingers bumped into Dad's hand.

"I know what that says…" I said, turning the page as he cleared his throat.

"Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the riverbank, and of having nothing to do…"

I knew this story; I could still hear the words coming from my mother in her lilting southern accent. So I knew just when to turn the page. But hearing it in my father's voice it seemed quite different, it was no longer me and mom's story anymore. It was ours. Pressing myself against his side, I could feel the murmur of his rasping voice. As long as I was right there, I was safe, I was content. The next thing I know, I awoke to the feel of the sun on my face.

It took a moment for me to get my bearings as I peeked over a blanket I didn't recognize. Peering up at the painting of my grandparents I realized I was curled up to the side of a chair that hand been reclined. Listening, I could hear the sound of Dad's snores. As it turns out I fell asleep, and instead of working himself out of the chair and carrying me to bed with his busted ribs, Dad just said to hell with it, and reclined back. The blanket was Alfred's doing.

I remember laying there, half in a daze as I used Dad's arm as a pillow when I heard Alfred whisper.

"Are you awake then?"

As my eyes flicked open, I found old Pennyworth crouched down beside me. I pressed a finger to my lips, working a smile out of the man. Even then I knew that my father didn't sleep much.

"Would you like to come down stairs? It's almost lunch time." I nodded to the mouthed words, letting him help me from the chair so I didn't wake the snoring shadow master. With my small body in one arm, Alfred picked up the book that was sitting open on the arm of the chair. Putting the book's ribbon in our spot, he set it down on the table by the chair. "For next time."

In time, we finished the book, replacing its spot on the table with others. I reread it once, just for nostalgia's sake, when I got to the blank pages in the back I found ink scrawled out in the white space. If you ever start wondering if you've gone mad, just remember the best people usually are.

It was later that Alfred put a small round frame on the mantle. The old coot had snapped a picture of us. I was curled into Dad's side, tucked under his chin. The book was laying open on his chest. It was the first picture that I'd ever been in with my father. It was also the moment that began my vast collection. I guess I collect them because you never know when they'll stop happening.

* * *

The death of Max Collins moved through the city of Gotham like a ripple. Only one child was suspected of dying from the Zesti Cola poisonings in all this time, but now? Now there were two dead little boys, separated by eleven years of speculation. The tension in the city was rising; Delilah didn't have to see it the grim faces that pressed in on her, holding out microphones and recorders. She could feel it.

What did she have to say about this atrocity? What did it mean for Page for Parents? The place was a ghost town now, lingering with the memories of a child's last moments. All Del could do was hold her ground, trying to ignore her palms as they began to sweat beneath her gloves. Did she think it was meant for her?

Del could only stand there, watching the bystanders began to build as she stood there on the sidewalk.

"That's exactly what it is, it's an atrocity. A father lost his son. A little girl lost her brother. This city just lost a chance to see a bright little boy grow into something amazing." She stopped to swallow, feeling the knot building in her throat. "Page for Parents has been shaken to its core, but we're not going to close our doors. These are the darkest days the organization has ever seen, but what would we be teaching if we shrank in the face of adversity? I know Max wouldn't have wanted that." She couldn't help but glance at the memorial that had built up under the window.

The clamor of questions and shuttering cameras ballooned into the air. Did she think this was an accident or the work of a killer? If she could say something to them, what would it be? Del felt her heart fall into her gut. Even the public was starting to smell something wrong. "I'm not sure what to make of it." She said evenly, trying to keep her voice as calm as she could. "If someone is behind this…" She pointedly stared at the camera. "I hope justice finds their cowardly ass." _Before I find them first. _

The words seemed to spark a reaction on the street, looking into the crowd the girl spotted a familiar face. "Excuse me." Del was moving quickly, pushing her way through the bodies as she made her way to the street. Behind her the reports were still yelling out questions, horns blared as she started jogging her way across the street. "JASON!"

He only glanced over his shoulder before turning down the alley. "Wait!" But as the girl turned the corner, there was nothing in alley but shadows.

* * *

"God Damn it!"

When her father's fist came down on the table, Del couldn't help but to peek up from her oatmeal, the sound of the rattling china in her ears. The sound immediately summoned Alfred to his side. "Is everything alright, Master Bruce?"

"NO!" He snapped, wadding up the newspaper as he shoved himself from the table. If he saw his children trading looks across the table, he didn't mention it. The second he slung the paper on the table and started to work himself out of his blazer the girl knew, he was heading for the bat-cave in 3..2..1.

The second he disappeared around the corner, Del beat Damian to the paper. Staring at the wrinkled page she could see what set him off. It was as clear as the thick black headline. **Red Hood Strikes Again!** Nothing could stop the bile from creeping up the back of her throat. Another man was dead. It didn't help that Jason displayed his kills like coyotes on a fence line. She knew it was his way of warding of the others. Commit a crime and this is how you're going to end up. Crime rates were actually down.

"Oh dear."

"Dad's been trying to catch him for the last couple weeks." Delilah said, sneering when Damian snatched the paper from her. But the girl only looked down at her ink stained fingers. Demon Spawn was right.

"I told you so." He gloated, paying no attention to her when she pushed her chair back. "Though I fail to see what all the fuss is. They're just criminals."

"He's taken everything Dad ever taught it and throwing it in his face." She said, rubbing her hands on her jeans. The ink wouldn't go away. "Not everything needs to end in death, maybe that's hard for you to wrap your head around. If you kill them, what's separating you from them?"

Del eased her way into the belly of the cave, paying no mind to the flutter of bats as they squeaked and squabbled. She knew he could hear her footsteps on the gravel. "Shouldn't you be practicing with Dick?" He asked, frowning at her when the girl ignored the bite in his tone and plopped herself on the stool that was sitting off to the side.

"I saw him this morning." She said calmly, trying to keep herself still when he twisted around in the glow of the monitor. "He was standing in the crowd when I got bombarded by the press." She explained. "I tried to chase after him, but he just slipped down the alley. Before he had to ask, the girl slid from her spot, and walked to the holographic maps. "This one." She amended, circling the spot on the map. "He didn't climb up, I would have seen that."

"No. He dropped down to the old subway system." Her father explained, showing her the veins of the old subway system that crept throughout the city. He was already turning back to the computer. "Something changed…I don't know what, but something's changed."

He didn't see Del looking down at her ink stained hands. Dad, I-" _I did it._ But the words seemed to get lodged in her throat. "Is there anything I can do?" She asked suddenly, taking a solitary step forward. She didn't expect her father to turn on her.

"I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP!" The sound of his roaring voice sent the bats into frenzy. And yet his daughter only put her hands on her hips. In this light they almost looked green.

"Yelling at me isn't going to fix it!" She cried, matching his volume.

"OUT! OUT NOW!" When the stubborn girl didn't so much as move a toe he snagged her by the elbow and began to drag her toward the stairs. Halfway up, the girl twisted from his grip. "Who's thinking with their emotions _now_?!"

As soon as her words hit the air, she saw her father go slack, but it didn't stop him from blocking the way back down with his arm. "I know, Dad. I know this brings up all kinds of bad shit up for you. You never got over Jason. And now here he is, throwing it in your face."

Normally he'd snap at her for her language, but he didn't even try. He just shook his head as his eyes fell to his feet. "Del, just…"

"Get out, yeah, yeah. I got that part." She said, giving him the brush off. "I'll let you brood," She said popping up the stairs, but when she peered back, he was standing there, just watching her.

"Don't make me come looking for you." She told him, watching the stark light of the house cut through the darkness on the stairs as she pushed the door open. She was just about to step through the doorway when his voice caught her.

"Del."

She stood there as he dug into his pocket. "Catch."

Leaning forward the girl caught the phone with her fingers. She immediately popped the phone open, knowing full well that her father was watching her. Just like the last one, there was a locator.

"So you knew…and you left it in?"

Del shrugged. "Hey, it's handy." She said, slipping the device into her pocket. "Remember, don't make me come looking-"

"I got that part." He said cutting her off as he waved his hand to dismiss her. Only when she slipped completely into the house did he turn and disappear into the shadows.

* * *

"I'm telling you, you don't have enough air for that kind of jump."

Del just stared at the vault. "But you do it all the time!"

Dick Grayson couldn't figure out if he wanted to smirk or scold her. "Out there! Not in the gym!"

"I can do it." The man went for an eye roll as the teen jutted her chin at him. Just like that she was running for it.

"I can't watch." He groaned. Sure, she came off horse flawlessly, she had one flip in, and was working on the reverse when she crashed hard on her knees. He could hear the door opening but he was focused on her.

"There, you stubborn ass. You happy now?"

Del's response was to smack the mat as she climbed to her feet. "No! I know I can do it."

"On floor…_maybe_." With that he turned to see Alfred standing there with Tim.

"_Maybe_? _Maybe_ he says." The girl hadn't even noticed.

"Mr. Drake to see you, Miss." At the sound of Alfred's lyrical accent, the girl stopped, finally turning about. Tim was here to see her? For a moment she stood there and blinked. "Thank you, Alfred."

"Why are _you_ here?" Damian had been so quiet until now, but the second the door shut behind the old man, the boy was up from his knees, circling around Tim with his hands pressed into his back.

"Down, Damian."

"I'm not your dog." He snapped.

"Tim?"

The boy's weary green eyes moved from Damian to Del before he held up a folder. "I uh, was just dropping off your homework." Somehow that relived her. "I didn't mean to interrupt your practice." He told her as she took the folder from him.

"No, it's fine. Thank you." She quickly disappeared through the door. One tense moment slid into another, building a strange awkward silence. Since when was Dick so quiet? That was alarming all on its own. Never mind the kid that was giving him the evil eye.

"Okay, I'll bite. _What_?"

Dick just crossed his arms. "Is there anything that I need to know about?" He asked gesturing for the door that Del had fled back to Tim. The young man simply shrugged.

"No?"

The word had Dick moving a little closer with that simpering look on his face. "Let me put it this way so you can understand. I can make any fall look like an accident, so you hurt my sister in any way-"

Tim's eyes went wide. "No! Dude! It's not like that! I swear! I mean, I like her, she's nice but-"

"Wait, so you're not-"

"_No_."

"Damn."

That had the pair turning their heads toward the boy in the corner. Damian just tilted his head. "I was looking forward to killing you." He said. "She's _my _sister."

The second she slipped back through the door, Del had the distinct feeling that she had walked right into something. "Do I even want to know?" She asked handing Tim the handkerchief he had wrapped her hand with.

"I'm sorry, I would have given it back to you sooner, things have been…hectic."

Tim just nodded and thanked her, slipping the soft piece of cloth into his jacket pocket. "So what was it you were trying to do before you ate mat?"

"Something she shouldn't be trying on a vault!" Dick put in, but the girl was rolling her eyes. "If you want to break your neck, fine. But do it after regionals. You've only got two days..." He pointed at the vault. "Give me something clean."

"Okay, okay!"

"I don't know I prefer watching her _eat mat_. It's mildly entertaining."

"Shut it, Damian. Tim, take a seat. Maybe you'll learn something."

Tim was easing to the floor when Del started running for it. He didn't expect the girl to back flip onto the spring board and flip over the horse into a double twist. Her feet landed with a smack. With the look on Dick's face, he wasn't expecting that either.

"Clean enough for you?" She breathed, making sure she presented as if she were standing in front of judges.

"Y-yeah." It took the guy a second to clear his throat. "Let's uh, run through that a few times and we'll work on your bars."

* * *

"Delilah Bae, what the hell is this?!" Bruce burst into the gym, just in time for Del to miss her transition from the low bar to the high bar. The girl hit the mat with a crack.

"Ouch. There goes the pride."

"Oh, be quiet." The girl groaned as she flopped over. Mat burn. Opening her eyes, she didn't find the white peaks of the ceiling. Nope. Her father was staring down at her with his narrowed eyes and grim set mouth.

"Hi, Dad." Something was fisted in his hand. A magazine?

"My office. _Now_."

The room was immediately filled with tension. "How much trouble am I in?"

"Now, Delilah Bae." That's twice he's used the dreaded middle name. Things were not looking good. No, no. Not at all. Snagging her shoes and her track pants the girl all but huffed after him, listening to her bare feet hit the cool marble floor. The second she waded into his office, the door slammed shut behind her.

She watched him wearily as he unrolled the magazine he was gripping. "Hero: Batman. I wouldn't be here without him. I mean, how can you not respect someone who saved your life? He deserves way more credit than he's given." With that he threw the magazine into an empty chair across from his desk.

"Thanks to your public support, I've been getting calls for a statement all fucking day."

"Oh no." The girl slumped into a chair, picking up the magazine as if it were as deadly as a gun.. "I didn't think-"

"Then you shouldn't have opened your mouth."

"It was a part of the interview! And if I remember correctly, that was _your_ idea." She cried, watching him rake his hand through his hair. "What did you want me to say?! Something generic? _Oh, my daddy is my hero_."

"YES!"

"I did!" she shot back, quickly averting her eyes to the floor when he spun on his heel. "They…they just don't know that."

As Bruce stood there, watching his daughter wiggle her toes into the carpet, it dawned on him that the old soul that he found himself relying on more and more was just a fifteen year old girl. She played the role of an adult instead of a wily teenager. And now here he was, angry with her for making the stupid kind choices teens are accredited for.

"Look at me."

When she didn't, he reached under her chin, lifting her pale blue eyes up from the floor.

"I'm sorry Dad. It just came out." She uttered, twisting the magazine in her hands. "Is it so bad that I support Batman?" She asked. "Bruce Wayne may not…but I do." She whispered, feeling his hand fall away.

"And that's how we're going to play it off. They're going to ask, you know that." He said wandering to the window. "The board will question you're reasoning skills." He added. Even an entire company can forget that she was only a teenager. Del was wringing her hands together when he peered over his shoulder.

"I didn't think about that…" she said softly.

"And that's why you need to _think_ before you even open your mouth. This stupid statement of yours is going to have repercussions."

All Del could do was nod as the silence built up between them. "So, what's Timothy Drake doing here?" He asked.

"He just dropped of my homework…" She murmured, ignoring his sidelong glance. "Why? Is it a problem?"

Bruce just shook his head. "Just curious." Yeah, right. Her father was never _just curious_."Go finish your practice, looks like you need it." The words had her stopping dead in the doorway.

"Oh, like you never ate mat." She scoffed, watching him stuff his hands into his pockets. At least he seemed to be thinking rationally now. "Hey, you can hang out with us, you know. It's not dark out just yet."

His lips twitched. "Is that what you want? To have the old man hovering around."

"Sometimes. We kinda like your company; We're twisted like that." She flashed him a little smile, but when the phone in her pants pocket began to vibrate the girl went on a hunt to find it. Bruce watched the girl frown at the screen. "Weird. It's Mr. Collins." He followed the girl out into the hall, listening to her voice echo as she answered it. "Hello?" Silence.

"Sissy, Sissy, slow down." That had them both stopping in their tracks Sissy only whispered and that was a rare thing in itself. "Call the police, call them right-you can't-" The second she changed direction he followed.

"Where are you? Tell me where you are." The girl was flying down the stairs two at a time sometimes three. "Can you see anything? Okay. Okay, can you hear anything? Water dripping. That's good, what else do you hear? Trains? No, Sissy, stay on the line with me, keep talking, Sweetheart."

Del was half way down the cave steps when the line went dead in her ear. "Fuck. Fuck fuck, fuck _FUCK!" _

"Keep trying to call her back!" Her father yelled squeezing by her; he went directly for the suit.

"She said she could hear trains. It's dark, damp, and she can smell fish. She said it was a couple of guys; they snatched her and her father right off the street. They took him away, he dropped the phone and the screen busted, so she had no idea who she was calling." She rattled, while the phone rang in her ear. But just like before, it went straight to voicemail.

"That could be a number of places. We'll have to find the last cell tower the call pinged off of." That's all she needed to hear to toss him the phone. "If you have a picture of Sissy, go get it. The police will need it if they drop her off anywhere."

He didn't have to tell her twice, she flew up the stairs and zipped right by Alfred, the girl could hear her feet slamming in the hallway as she ran for her room. That had Dick looking out the gym door.

"What the hell is taking you so long?"

"Kidnapping!" That had him following her, watching her rip a photo out of a picture frame. When she looked up, there were three different faces peering in.

"Who?"

"Sissy." The second the girl's name fell out of her mouth, she saw the flash of Damian's shirt as he disappeared down the hall.

"Get the picture scanned, we'll head out right now. Get me coordinates as soon as you possibly can."

* * *

The costume cases were all but picked clean when Del made it back into the cave. "Tonight, I'm Robin, whether you like it or not."

Her father didn't argue. He didn't have time to argue. "You do as I say. I need you to trust me. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Father."

Damian as Robin? The girl half expected to see the boy gloating when she peeked over her shoulder. But he only stared at her before giving a slight nod. Even he could understand how important this was. At a time like this, she'd tell him not to blow it. Or not screw it up, but all she could do was nod back.

As the computer when off the girl brought her eyes back to the screen. "Last cell tower for the phone to ping off of is on 32nd Street." She said, watching Batman fill the space beside her out of the corner of her eye.

"And she hears trains…"

The girl stepped back as her father enlarged a couple of maps of the area. "That could be the freight she's hearing…" But Del's mouth fell open as she stared at the veining lines across the screen, the same lines her father had pointed out to her earlier that day. "She's in the old subway."

"She didn't happen to mention any clothing colors, did she?"

Delilah felt her heart fall to her feet. "A red…mask." No. No, no. That couldn't be right. But his name kept whispering around in her head. "Jason…"

* * *

"_The old subway section by the docks? That's a huge area to cover, she could be anywhere." _

With the cave to herself, Del was free to suit up. "I know. GCPD is looking for her, Batman is out there and so is the Demon Spawn." But it wouldn't be enough. Now that Mr. Collins' phone was going straight to voice mail, it only meant that the device was off. They couldn't even reverse the GPS on it.

Del worked her way into her harness, ignoring Jax as he bumped her hands with his head. "Not now, Jax." But as the girl worked to snatch up her cape, she paused. "So…"

"_Oh no."_

"Like you have any better ideas!"

"_Let's hear it."_

"What do you say we release the hound?" The girl asked, crossing her arms as she appraised the curious Doberman. It was an old game to them. She'd hide somewhere on the property, and they'd send Jax out to look for her. A game the dog was terribly good at. And now, such childish games could be a valuable skill.

"_Do you have anything of hers?" _

"I don't. But I know where she's left a few things." She said, digging through the disguise material. First, Jax needed a makeover to hide those rust colored points.

"_I'm going to send Tim to meet you_."

He didn't want her working on her own. "No offense to Tim, but why?"

"_Shit always tends to come your way_." Of course she could read between the lines. Jason always found his way to her.

* * *

The colors had all but disappeared in this strange world. Everything was black and blue, smelling of rust, of mold and of the docks. Even the coat she was laying on smelled strange, like burned leather and ash, something metal. She could hear the sound of boots scuffing across the ground. He was coming back. She wrenched her eyes closed, listening to the sound his boots giving when he crouched. The second one of his gloved fingers touched her shoulder she shot backwards, smacking her back on the wall behind her.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He said. But it didn't stop the heaving sobs from billowing up from her chest. "I promise. Here, look, I brought you something, you could really use a drink right?" When the child nodded with her tear stained snot covered face, he put a bottle in her hands. "It's just water."

It was all she needed to know to put the tip of the bottle to her mouth. The cold liquid barreled down her throat like a dagger, but she couldn't stop drinking it. But what if it was poison? The sudden thought had the girl lurching forward. The bottle went over as everything started to come up.

"Whoa. Not that way." But as the girl stumbled in the darkness on her hands and knees, she tripped over something big, and before she knew it, she landed in a tacky pool of liquid. "Don't move."

The child froze. But as the man went to pick her up, she fought back, feeling a flashlight in his belt she yanked it free just as she hit the ground. The second the light broke into the darkness, a scream ripped from her throat. It was a body she had tripped over. She dropped the flashlight in the pool of blood and started to crab walk back when he yanked her off the ground. A scream threatened to rip from her lungs when his hand clamped down on her mouth.

"I need you to be really, really quiet." He whispered.

"I want to go home!" She whimpered the second his fingers fell away from her mouth. But he didn't let her go.

"There's only one bad man left. I have to find him first. Then I'll take you home. If I take you home before then, he might come back. You don't want that do you?" Sissy Collins had no choice but to shake her head.

* * *

"He's gone isn't he?" Damian asked, watching Batman's fingers slip from where Mr. Collin's pulse should have been. Checking for a pulse seemed to be a waste of time when there was so much blood on the floor.

The boy crouched, watching him examine the body. There were no wounds of any kind, which only meant one thing with such a loss of blood. He was poisoned. Lifting the man's eye lid, Batman seemed to grimace. "His eyes are gone."

"What?" The boy reached to look, but was stopped. He let his hand fall. "If they were after organs, they could have taken more valuable things." Damian stated plainly. But Batman had pulled himself from his heels.

"The girl can't be far." None of this was making sense.

* * *

With Sissy's scarf tucked into a pocket, Del was letting Jax take the lead, sniffing through the mud and the muck that had washed over the rails through the years. She didn't have to look behind her to know she had a shadow, but the trick after all was not giving Tim away.

The girl moved soundlessly, listening to the wind roar through the tunnels. It did nothing to stop Jax. Suddenly his black ears went up. If she wasn't right there on top of him, she could have lost him in the darkness. When a growl sprang from him, she knew something was there.

"You."

_Jason._

"Where is she, Red?!" She snapped, watching him wade into a spot of light. "Safe. She's safe. You want to call off your dog?" He asked, racking his gun. He was too far away for her to make a grab for the fire arm. She held her hand down, signaling Tim to hold his position. She wanted Jason closer. "Down." At the command the dog stilled by her side, but it didn't stop him from growling. She took a step closer aware that he hadn't lowered his gun. And then another. "Where is she?"

"What? You think I won't shoot you?"

"You would have done it already." She sneered inching another step closer. "Why did you do this?" She tried not to flinch when she heard the safety click off_. No. He's not going to shoot me. He still owes me._

"I didn't do this."

The second she felt barrel of the gun poke into her chest, Del was sure she was going to stop breathing right then and there, until a piercing scream ripped through the darkness. They both looked in the direction of the sound, it was all Del needed to clock him. She pulled his arm down and ripped his gun away as his head snapped back.

"SEEK!"

At the order, the dog was off like a shot. The chaos gave Tim enough time to work his way behind the man. Del jumped out of the way just as launched Jason forward with a kick. It wasn't going to keep him down. "Go find her. I've got this."

She didn't hesitate. Leaving Jason and Tim alone together was not a good idea. But what other choices did she have? All she could do was run into the dark, listening to the sound of their contact as they wailed on each other.

"You hit like a girl."

"So would you if you would hit harder."

"Dick. Tim's got Jason. I'm trying to find Sissy; I don't know how long he can hold him off."

"_I'm on my way. Bats is on the other side."_

* * *

The man smelled. He reeked of booze and blood. _Bad man. _The red mask had that right. This was the same man who had ripped her from her father's arms. "If you don't stop that, I'm going to put this gun in your mouth and shut your trap for you. Is that what you want?!" Her screaming stopped.

She didn't know where he was taking her. He had hopped through tunnels and over different tracks. He had just threw her on an old platform, when a dog came tearing from the shadows. The child stomped on his hand, forcing him to let go of his gun while the dog sank its teeth into the man's shoulder.

He swung around; trying to scramble for the piece but the child nabbed it first. What child or canine didn't foresee was the flash of a knife. The second the dog's cries slipped into the air, the girl panicked. If something happened to the dog, she wouldn't stand a chance. She squeezed the trigger. The bullets were going everywhere. Into the wall, into the man's arm, everywhere except for the dog or any place important for that matter. Soon all the hammer did was click. The gun would fire anymore. She moved to scramble away, just as someone in yellow flipped over her.

Del managed to handspring herself down to the tracks, narrowly dodging the knife in St. James' hand when she heard it rip through her cape. Grabbing his outstretched arm, she pulled, connecting her foot square into his ribcage. In some twisted way, his shuddering gasp satisfying. _Oh, you have no idea how long I've waited to do this to you. _

Revenge only begets more revenge. It's a cure for nothing. It only scrapes and gnaws at the void. Del knew this, she's saw its effects first hand. And yet, knowing the truth did little to distinguish the fire that was building in her. _I want you to hurt. I want you to suffer for what you've done. _

When he sank to his knees, Del could hear him wheezing, trying to hold his chest and the knife all at the same time. When her boot crunched down on his hand, he howled like an animal, a noise she was unaware that humans could even make. She ground his fingers into the rails as she yanked the knife from his hand. "You won't need that." She said, tossing it onto the platform with a clatter.

"You and I need to have a little chat." She said, yanking him up to his sluggish feet. He was almost too heavy to be doing such things. But he seemed to be grabbing onto the wall, trying to hold himself up. That worked just fine for her.

"Why are you targeting the Collins?!" She snapped, one hand fisting in his hair, the other gripping his jacket.

"Bitch, it ain't your business." He hissed, spitting blood in her face.

"Have it your way." She said, smacking his head into the wall.

His head hit the wall again. "How about now?"

"Fuck you!" he spat through busted teeth. Blood was running down his chin.

"Nope." Again. "I'm starting to think you _like_ this." She tilted her head at his wide eyed gaze. "Oh, I know all about you. You just _love_ the pain don't you?" She paused.

"Oh wait, no, you like inflicting pain on other people. Different when the shoe is on the other foot, isn't it? I'm going to ask you nicely. What are you doing with the Collins? What's your end game?"

"If it's the brat you want, take her." He wheezed. "He got what he wanted." When the man's bloody lips upturned, showing his broken toothed smile, Del wanted to make it disappear. She smashed his face back into the wall.

"'Who?! Who you son of a bitch?! "

"Stop! Stop!" Even though she could hear Tim in her ear as he tried to pull her away, she let go of St. James' coat, and shoved at him.

"Let her beat him. He definitely deserves it."

Blood had begun smear across grungy wall. There were teeth at her feet. St. James wasn't uttering a sound. Had it not been for Sissy's wailing cry, the girl may not have stopped. "STOP IT! No more! Please, please no more! "

Del let him go, watching him sink into a heap right there on the tracks. When she turned, she found a bloody, dirty, weeping child standing there horror stricken on the platform. She had beaten a man within an inch of his life…right in front of her. _Oh, Jesus. _

Somewhere behind her, she could hear Jason's slow clap echoing through the tunnels. "Couldn't have done it better myself. Oh wait, yes I can." The second Del heard him slide his gun from its holster, she snagged the gun from Sissy's hand.

"Just what are you going to do with an empty gun?"

"This!" She cried, hitting him upside the head with the piece. The second he staggered back, she grabbed his arm, and wrenched his gun away.

"This one's _not_ empty." Oh, she knew it wasn't.

"You don't know how to use a gun."

The second Del clicked off the safety and racked a round in the chamber, he held up his empty hands. "You want to bet me on that? I told you once; I'm not that little girl you knew. I'm not going to tell you again."

She could feel the pressure of Tim's gloves on her arm. "You don't want to do this." He whispered. But all Del could do, was watch Jason slip further and further into the shadows. When she lowered the gun, she couldn't see him anymore. The girl quickly ejected the magazine, letting the rounds rain down on her feet. Dismantling the gun she threw it as hard as she could into the into the pitch black tunnels.

She immediately turned her attention to Sissy. But when she took a step toward the platform, the child took a step back. _She's afraid of me. _ Del paused, watching Tim crouch down beside Jax from the corner of her eye.

"Are you hurt?"

Sissy's dingy blonde hair swayed as she shook her head. "You're name is Annabel, right?" The child paused, her big blue eyes wide. She didn't nod, she just stood there. "Where's your Daddy, Annabel?"

The child's mouth opened and trembled. "I-I don't know!" She howled. "They took him away!"

Del lowered herself to the ground beside Jax. The poor dog was shaking. "They who, Honey?" Del was working her arms under Jax's body when the child pointed at St. James. "Him and the other man the Red mask killed."

"Killed?" Del tried not to pause as she and Tim lifted the dog on the platform. She could only watch Sissy nod while big fat tears cut trails through the grime on her cheeks. "Did he do that in front of you?"

She shook her head. "I-I tripped over h-him." The tiny thing stammered.

Del held out her hand. "Okay…okay. It's going to be okay." She offered the words as gently as she could when she hoisted herself up on the platform. In this light she could get a good look at Tim. His face was bloody, his red and black suit was tattered, but he seemed to be all in one piece.

"The second the shots were fired…he turned and ran. I can't believe I let him get away."

"If you didn't come when you did, I might've done something I'd regret." She whispered, watching Sissy wander closer and closer before finally crouching down beside Jax. The dog was whining miserably and yet his nub of a tail still managed to wag when the little girl stroked his coat.

"How did you find me?" Del felt herself smiling when she pulled the girl's wooly scarf from her pocket. "We let him sniff on something of yours and told him to find you. He led us right to you." Del whispered her, wrapping the scarf around the girl's neck. Taking the edges of the garment, she dabbed the girl's wet cheeks.

"Nightwing, we've got the girl. St. James is down, and so is the hound. Red is still on the loose."

"_Thank God. I wouldn't worry much about Red. Bats found his ass I'll meet you with a couple unis."_

Del felt as though she could melt when she met the night air. The sky was alive with the swirl of lights, flickering from red to blue. Sissy's little fingers where wrapped into her harness as she carried Jax in her arms. Tim had St. James by the scruff of his clothing, forcing him to stumble forward with his hands cuffed behind his back.

The heads in the crowd were beginning to turn when a woman came flying forward. "Sissy?! Sissy!"

The little girl let go immediately and raced into the open arms of her aunt, letting the woman shower her grimy face with kisses. The second her wet eyes glanced up, the woman wobbled. "Thank you…thank you, thank you." The tears were streaming down her face anyway.

All Del could do was nod, as they ushered through the crowd. Tim let the police take St. James. "Damn…He'll be sucking food through a straw for months." The officer commented. "Your work?" But all Tim could do was shake his head. Del was already moving toward Nightwing, she didn't see the officer's face.

"Collins?"

Dick said nothing as he lifted a bloodied Jax from her arms. "Easy, boy, easy now." All he had to do was shake his head and Del knew. "Batman found his body…" He said quietly.

"Where's Batman now?"

"North. Chasing Red down."

That's all Del needed, she turned around and was cutting through the crowd. "Seriously?! You're just leaving me with the dog?!" But the girl was already up and running across the roof of the train station. He turned, ready to dump Jax in Tim's arms, but the boy was already running after her. "Well, that's just great."

Del knew Tim was following, her, but she wasn't about to slow down for him, the second her feet touched down on a roof she was racing and leaping out into the air. Scanning across the tops of the buildings, she could see a flutter of color. Damian. At least she knew she was going in the right direction. But she wasn't going to get there fast enough. In the midst of a leap, Del heard the fan kick off. It was out of air.

Her body hit the ledge of the next building, but in her scramble to get ahold, the ledge crumbled under her fingers. The building was falling away from her, any second she was sure she was going to hit the pavement, when something snaked around her ankle. Her body smacked into the building like wrecking ball creating a cloud of dust on impact.

"I've got you; I've got you, hold on." Tim. The second he lowered her to a fire escape, he jumped down next to her. She was already on her feet.

"Fuck. They're empty." She barely uttered a thank you before leaping off the fire escape to the alley below.

"Geez, does she ever slow down?"

"_Welcome to my world."_

* * *

Del was racing down the sidewalks, leaping over benches, cutting through the crowds, and sliding across the hoods of cars, all the while searching the tops of the buildings for any sign of Batman, Robin, or Red. Spying the crown of a red mask on a building a few blocks away, the girl cut through the alleyway, trying to make the shortest distance she could between her and them.

The closer she approached, the more she could see. She could even make out Batman's shape in the dull glow of the city. He was dangerously close to the edge. Jason swung, he ducked, he put a foot right into Jason's chest, but the problem with fighting a former protégé, is that they know you. Jason must have known her father well enough, because he did the same.

Her father was falling. Del's heart lurched into her throat as she made a break for it. She half expected him to shoot use his grappling gun, he'd done it millions of times before, but when his falling body smacked into a gargoyle that perched on the ledge, the girl felt the scream ripping out of her lungs.

When she could finally see him, he was being crowded around by the residents of the closest back street. "It's the Bat."

"GET DOWN HERE NOW! BATMAN IS DOWN! HE'S DOWN!"

He could feel everything and nothing. And as try as he might, he could hardly move a single limb of his body. The faces that peered in on him were all a blur, marking on his memory by the smell of dirt, sweat and blood. Maybe that was his own blood he was smelling. He could feel them pulling on him, causing the pain to shoot up his body. The cowl was slipping… No. He couldn't even summon the word. Only when the loud crack of the whip broke their chatter did they even look up. He could see the yellow fabric. He tried honing in on a voice but he heard nothing. The first man to run at her met the Tazer. The second he dropped they went for her, and there was not a damn thing he could do.

He could only lay there, trying to get his mouth to move, as she kicked, leapt and spun in the air, flattening bodies in her wake. He never realized just how much she had been paying to him and Dick. But there were just too many. The moment he was sure she'd be over run, someone in red and black came flying in. Back to back they seemed to work in tandem, laying waste to the alley. The second the last man crashed to the dirt, she was there.

"Hold on, just hold on." She chanted her breath ragged and warm. She reached into his belt, pulling out the fob to the bat-mobile. "I'm going to get you out of here."

"Jesus Christ." _Dick_. "Is he okay?!"

"NO! Go find Robin! He's still up there!" The headlights of the car cut through the darkness as it screeched to a halt beside them. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dick Zipping up the building.

"Tim, help me get him in the car." _Tim?_ The thought was obliterated into a groan when the pair hoisted him up. "I'm sorry, I know it hurts." She told him as the slid him into the flattened passenger seat.

"Do you even know how to drive this thing?" But she never answered him; she simply hopped into the car.

"Go help Nightwing, Make sure Robin doesn't cut him to ribbons." She didn't even wait for a response, she just closed the hatch.

"Don't worry; I'm not driving your precious car." She said to him setting it on autopilot. The windshield guards came up, and her mask cowl and mask came off. _Del… _At first, he didn't want it to be her. But now it no longer mattered. She pulled a black piece from the inside of her mask, and set it to his mouth. Oxygen. He remembered trying to take a deep breath as she routed around the backseat, flinging things out of the first aid kit. Closing his eyes he could feel her fingers squeezing his through his glove and then…there was nothing.


	16. Bruce, Batman, Dad Part 2

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay. It's finals week and I'm in full on panic mode. The chapters will be back on track though! Here's the second half of the last one. Now I will say there is some foreshadowing going on, but not for this story. (I have others in mind once I reach the end of this one.)

* * *

"B?" Oh, that voice, he knew the lilt of her voice. It was enough to make him lift his aching head. "What are you doing here?" Feeling her hand on his cheek, the man could have groaned. How could he have missed the feel of her flesh so much?

"Paige…"

Her lips broke into a sliver of a smile, but it never reached her eyes. "You can't be here." She whispered. As she kneeled, Bruce could finally see beyond her, but everything was covered with snow. The trees seemed to glitter in a predawn light, shades of yellow and pink. He should have been cold, but all he could focus on was the feel of her hands cupping his face. Why did it feel so real?

For a moment he had tricked himself into thinking he was sitting by the ice rink that went up in front of Wayne Enterprises every season, but the horizon was void of its towers of glass and concrete. "Not yet…"

"Paige…I-"

Her lips felt like a flutter on his forehead. "You need to wake up."

And leave her? Again? All he could do was press his hand against her hand, afraid the feel of her fingers would start to wilt away. "I was afraid…" The words bubbled from his mouth on their own accord, "I was afraid to find someone like you…" When the words began to sink in, Bruce found himself frowning. "I was just starting to…"

"Accept that you loved me?" She gave him a merciful smile. "I know…"

"I should have told you, I should have-" But the words were halted by the feel of her fingers pressing against his lips.

"It was enough." She whispered, letting her fingers slide down his lips. When she pulled him forward, he could smell the lingering scent of her perfume. Sweet pea. "I love you too, you ridiculous man." The breath tickling against his ear sent a shiver rippling through his flesh. "I always will…but it's time, B."

And yet all Bruce could do was press his cheek against hers. "They still need you…" she said gently. "Del and Damian especially."

"Del…I've made so many mistakes..."

"You're doing the best you can. But Bruce, you can't keep the girl from flying. You have to trust that she'll make the most of what you taught her." She pulled from him, dragging her warmth with her. "Now, you stubborn ass, it really is time to wake up."

Bruce blinked, trying to clearing his blurring vision. "How?" But her face was lost in a haze of color.

"Just open your eyes…"

* * *

He had a splitting headache, one that was slightly fuzzy around the edges. When the light began to blur into his vision, he began to make out the shapes of the hospital room. In this light, everything was a dusky gray.

Laying there for a moment, he worked on opening his mouth, suddenly so aware on how dry it was, or for that matter how much it pained him to breathe. And yet, there was something soft and warm pressing against his hand. Dragging his eyes to his bedside, Bruce found his daughter slouched over his bed, his hand trapped in between her cheek and her own fingers. _Delilah_. His fingers hesitated to reach out and touch her when the light from the hall broke through the gloom.

"I never pegged you for an early riser."

Bruce forced himself to turn his head toward the door, watching Tommy slide in from the chaotic hall. His eyes went back to his daughter, as he worked his hand out from under her head, trying not to disturb her as he let it rest on her head.

"Usually not." He said, watching Del's body rise and fall beneath the blanket of Dick's coat. Of course that was a half-truth. It was hard to rise early when you never slept.

"That's a good kid you've got. I don't think she ever left that chair. And the staff tells me that she paced the entire length of your surgery. Seventeen hours is a long time to be on your feet. Not even my dog is that loyal."

"She _is _a good kid." He managed, dragging his fingers through her soft tangled hair. He let his eyes fall back on Dr. Elliot. "Thank you, Tommy."

The man seemed to simper. "You know, if you wanted to see me, there is a lot easier way to get a hold of me." But he nodded. "It's good to see that you're awake. It's been two days."

The muscles around Bruce's mouth seemed to ache as he felt his lips fall. Without a mirror he could be sure what kind of facial expression he was making, but it felt like a grimace.

"You'll be fine, Bruce. Your car is another story." Tommy said, smacking him on the shoulder. "I'll pop in on you later. I don't want to wake her." The man murmured, tilting his head to the girl. "I've heard tales of her bad side; I'd rather not see it. She's been like your guard." He said giving a flash of a smile as he turned for the door. "Well, between her and that boy." He added. "Funny, he looks a lot like you."

"My son."

Tommy's shoulders went rigid. "Oh, you have been busy."

Bruce tried to smirk back; there was no telling if he actually succeeded. He just let himself relax back into the bed when the door quietly shut behind the man.

The seconds slipped into moments marked only by the soft lull of a girl's steady breathing, and the growing flicker of light as the sun began to peek around the skyscrapers. In this light he could see the familiar red highlights glowing like embers in her hair. A small bit of Martha Wayne. But he had noticed them long ago...

* * *

He couldn't hear the clink of plates or the soft murmur of conversation as the people at the table stuffed their gobs, creating piles of shells and claws. If Bruce was paying any attention at all, he might have realized that his own food had grown cold some time ago, and yet he couldn't stop staring out the large picture windows.

There were quite a few children darting around the shoreline, dancing and jumping through the foaming surf with their pants rolled up to their calves. Say of course, for one little thing. With her chin in her hands, she was plopped down on the veranda, wiggling her toes in the sand. He could see her body shuddering with the rise and fall of a sigh.

"Is that her?" Bruce only glanced at Dick, watching the young man shrink back in his chair. He knew that these family functions weren't his thing. There had to be a reason, and Dick had a sneaking suspicion that it had everything to do with a little girl in a jean jacket and a tutu.

Bruce only nodded, lifting his napkin from his lap as he pulled himself from his chair, aware that half the table was watching him. The second he slipped out onto the veranda, the pressure dissipated, swallowed by the sound of the sea.

At first Bruce wasn't sure he could move. In the months that followed their very first meeting, she had changed. She was much bigger than he remembered, and yet the time seemed to go by in a blink. How could he have missed so much in such small amounts of time?

Reminding himself that he had an audience, Bruce worked out of his shoes and socks, lining them next to her small boots. But the only time the little thing even looked his way was when the wood creaked under his weight.

Her head snapped up, the sun causing her pale blue eyes to shimmer. "Hello, Mr. Wayne." She murmured, scooting over as he eased down beside her.

"Miss Delilah." For a moment, neither man nor girl said a word as if they were listening to the squeals and shrieks that spilled from the other children as they raced up and down the shoreline.

"Don't you want to join them?"

"Yes-N-no. I don't know." The girl's curly ponytail swung like a pendulum along her back. This was certainly not like the child he had met.

"Scared?"

When her hanging head popped up, he shrugged. "Your mom told me about what happened at the pool." He offered, ignoring the regret that nibbled at him. His own child nearly drowned and he wasn't there. Now the child was terrified of any body of water that was larger than a bathtub.

"What a blabbermouth." She grumbled letting her weary gaze continue to drag along the shore. "Haven't you ever been afraid?"

Bruce stilled his fingers, letting his half rolled up pants hang where they were. "Of course."

Delilah quieted; she seemed to be tucking her lip into her teeth, her mother's own nervous habit. "What are _you_ afraid of?"

"Lots of things."

"Name one."

"Public speaking."

The child snickered, watching the man put a finger to his lips. "You serious?"

"Have you ever given a speech to a room full of people?"

Del leaned back, tilting her head up to the pale blue sky. God, she looked so much like her mother. "Nope. And I wouldn't want to." But looking at her right now, with the sun peering down on her, he could see bits of his own mother in her, the fine red hair that mingled in her dusky brown, the soft dimples at the corner of her mouth, even the shape of eyes and her long eyelashes could be accredited to Martha Wayne. "Wait…" she said narrowing her eyes at him. "You do that all the time! Shouldn't you be used to it?"

"Probably, but it still makes me nervous." he murmured, rolling up the rest of his pant leg. The sand looked like glitter in the creases of his hands. "You can't let fear be the boss." The sand felt cool under his feet, but as he pull himself from the steps all he could feel was the child's stare on his back. "If I go, will you go?" He asked, tilting his head to the ocean.

For a long moment the child just sat there, eyeing his empty outstretched palm, fingers hesitating in the air. She almost looked like a chipmunk with her cheeks puffed up with air. Her body seemed to deflate with a hiss. "Okay…" She whispered, her face becoming pale when his thick fingers curled over her delicate little hand.

With each step, he could feel her fingers tighten. Soon the sand was soft and wet beneath their feet. "Oh…this is gonna be cold…" she whimpered, watching the swell build before it rushed for the land. The second the foaming tide rolled across her feet, the girl squealed, jumping back, but neither man nor child let go.

"That wasn't too bad. I'm sure the Arctic is warmer."

Del looked up. "The Arctic? Yeah, maybe if you're a polar bear."

"Del! You want to play?"

The voice had them both staring down the beach at Tamara Fox. The older child was beckoning with a wave of her hand.

"So, what do you think now?" Bruce asked, watching Delilah's lips twist as if she were trying to decide what to do.

"I'm still scared." She whispered. "But I think…I'll make myself do it anyway."

Wayne let the girl's hand slide from his, watching the surf swallow up her footprints as she raced for Tamara. But then she stopped, turned and ran right back. "Thanks, Mr. Wayne."

He just nodded and turned himself back toward the restaurant, stopping and shaking his head when he saw her cartwheel out of the corner of his eye.

"Just what did you say to my kid?"

Paige was pressing her arms into the deck, her delicate mouth upturned into a smile as he worked himself back up the stairs. "Trade secret." That won a laugh out of her. It was a wispy melodic sound. If they had been any other place, he would have kissed that mouth, but instead the man only worked himself back into his shoes.

"Which trade?" she whispered, playfully elbowing him in the ribs when he settled beside her for the briefest of moments.

"I can't tell you." He murmured, making sure to elbow her back before he turned away. "It's a secret." With that, he returned inside and settled back down at the table.

It was later, when the sun a had fallen from the sky, leaving the sea the color of ink, when the children began to migrate back to their parents, half soggy, covered in sand and smelling of salt.

"Mama, look what I found." In the faint light, he could see the pearly white gleam of a tiny conch shell in the girl's hand as she presented it out to her mother, but turned his attention back to Lucius and their conversation. Only when he went to slide on his own jacket, did he realize that there was something in the pocket.

"Little Minx. I didn't even see her slip that in." Dick murmured, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. Bruce only stared at the small white shell in his palm.

* * *

Bruce's fingers worked easily through Del's hair, breaking the soft winding curls her braiding often left behind. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine she was that little girl again. It was hard to believe that one minute she was falling asleep on his chest with her books, or stuffing her glittered art in his briefcase and the next saving his life.

"Thank you."

When Del began to slide from the grasp of exhaustion, she was sure she could feel fingers gently tracing through her hair. She let one eye open and then the other. "You snore."

At the sound of his raspy voice, the girl popped her head up, her wild hair tumbling down the side of her face. "Dad." The word came out choked and cracking. Before he could even breathe, her arms were around his neck.

"I do not." The words felt warm against his cheek. Only when he patted her arms, did she slide from him, so uncertain.

"You look like hell." He said, watching her lips crack into a smile.

"You're no daisy yourself. What'd you do? Steal that get up from a mummy?" She asked, as he gingerly touched the gauze around his head.

"King Tut. It's on loan."

When her hands wrapped around his fingers, all he could do was squeeze. "Have you been sitting there the _entire_ time?"

She didn't give him a flush or a sheepish face, but rather angled her chin at him. "I think they're going to need to put a name plate on this chair. They didn't know when you'd wake up so…" When she stopped to clear her throat, the man found himself trying to sit up. The second he outstretched his arm, she was up on the edge of the bed.

"Okay, Okay…" Having her pressed into his side made all sorts of things ache yet he let his arm sink around her.

"You must have been dreaming about something good." She sighed, her voice muffled into his shoulder. From here she could feel the soft rumble of her father's chuckle, before he pressed his lips on the top of her head.

"Your mother." He murmured. "She called me a stubborn ass." It was enough for a laugh to burst out of her, the kind of sound that tugged on his lips, even when the girl began to wipe her eyes with the back of her hands. "Didn't you have a competition or something? How did that go?"

"That was yesterday. I scratched."

"Del…"

"Family's more important." How could he argue with that? "I was busted down to an alternate. So I still have to go to the Santa Prisca Invitational, but the only way I'll compete is if someone has to scratch." Her shoulders rolled in a shrug. "I'm, I'm okay with that."

Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself with the creak of the door interrupted his train of thought. Dick. Damian. Tim. "It's a madhouse out there."

"Did you give a statement?" Delilah asked

Dick shook his head, trying to jive out of Damian's way as the kid jumped to fill his sister's old spot. "I'll do that in a minute." He said, putting a cup of coffee in her hands. Del still had her lip trapped in her teeth when she slid off the bed. "I'll take care of that…you debrief him so we're all on the same page."

"You sure?"

"Yeah…I've been chasing people off for the last two days, what's a few more?" Her shadow lingered for a moment; face pinching as she worked down her first sip of coffee. But when the noise of the hall started to leak into the room, Bruce could still see her standing there just hesitating.

"I'm not going anywhere…" he croaked, winning bob of her head. But as the girl began to slide from the room, Tim close at her heals, he found himself calling out to her. "Del…" A pause.

"We'll have to have a discussion eventually…maybe not here."

"Okay."

"Tim, that goes for you too." Tim's shoulder froze as Del yanked him through the doorway. "Yes, Sir."

* * *

"Hold this for a second?" Tim glanced down at the Styrofoam cup, as the girl worked her tangled hair into a bun. She could hide the crazy hair, but sleeplessness had left its mark in purple smudges under her eyes. Her irises were too bright a color not to bring attention to her face.

"What? Something on my face?"

The boy shook his head. "You look exhausted."

"Gee, thanks." She grumbled, rescuing her cup from him. "You're probably the only one who managed to sleep an ounce."

"Not really…after I wrapped the Lamborghini around the tree, I think I just laid in bed until Mr. Collins' service rolled around." He said quietly, pausing when he couldn't hear her footsteps beside him.

"You went?" The words were soft enough that he almost missed them. But he nodded. "I thought someone should go, and with the circumstances…" His shoulders rolled under his coat.

"Sissy…I should've-"

"She understood." He said quietly. Del could only watch as Tim began to hastily dig through his pockets. "She wanted me to give you this." He said, lifting a small pale envelope to the light.

"Thank you."

"It's no big-"

"No, Tim. _Thank you_." The letter crinkled in her grasp, the paper folding under the weight of her fingers like Tim's shoulders under his heavy sigh.

"You're welcome. I just wish I could do more." He said pausing just at the double doors. Beyond the glass he could see a mob of coats, scarves and cameras waiting just out of reach. "Dr. Elliot gave a statement earlier." He said, watching the bodies shiver and rock side to side as their breath left clouds in the winter air. "But I think they've been waiting for a Wayne to make an appearance."

"He did?"

Tim lifted his cup to his lips. "Yeah, never struck me as a glory hound, but it takes all kinds." Suddenly he was shoving his cup at her. "Wait, you don't have a coat."

"Tim, I'll be fine. I'll just be a second." But he had already shed his coat like a second skin. With him standing there holding out the thick black coat, she had no other option but to take it. "Why are you so nice?"

"That's like asking you why you always want to help people." When she pursed her lips at him he smirked. "While you tame the lions, I'm going to pop in on Sam."

The coat hung limply on Del's arm. "Sam? What's Sam doing here?"

"They found a matching donor the other day…" The words should have brought her some relief, but all she could do was stare at him. He hardly knew Sam. "What are you not telling me?"

"I have a hunch." When the girl didn't as much as budge he sighed into his cup. Didn't they tell her? "Del, Mr. Collins didn't just have his eyes removed. His kidneys and liver were missing too." The same organs that Sam needed.

"A coincidence?"

"I hope so…but it sure as hell doesn't feel like one." He said turning away from her, but half way down the hall he paused. "You should see her, you know." He turned down another hall not even giving the girl the chance to argue. _Please, God, let this be a fluke._ And yet something in her gut was telling her otherwise.

* * *

Del wasn't sure if it was blood or sweat she felt trickling down her back. Oh, she knew she was bleeding, but at least this time she wasn't the only one. When this began, Damian didn't so much as break a sweat. Now? Now they both bled like stuck pigs.

In the blur of her vision she could see someone lingering in the doorway, it was all the distraction Damian needed to send her sword flying."Shit." She hissed, as they both slid to the floor, but the boy swept it up before she could even stretch out her arm.

The swords whirled in Damian's hands, whistling as they sliced through the air in a flash of metal. Oh, he never let her forget that he could kill her the moment it suited him,and yet all the little psychopath seemed to do was humor her in his own sadistic way. She was learning, and learning quick, but not fast enough. If she stood didn't move to plan B or C, no amount of bleach was going to save her gi. She had no choice but to backtrack. Even as she ran for the sword rack, she could hear the sound of his guttural scream. Ripping two blades from the rack, she ducked, feeling the wind from his blades rush against her neck.

She jammed her own swords into the wall before her, ripping herself up by the hilts, she launched of the wall with her feet, tearing the blades free with the force of her twisting body. With her feet smacking to the ground the girl rose, lifting her blades to meet his. The shaking of her body only made her grip the blades tighter.

Bruce felt compelled to rush in, but just before his toes could touch the mat, he could feel fingers digging into his shoulder. "Wait, Bruce." Dick was pulling him back. "Del knows what she's doing." Just as the father shrugged free of the man's hand, he saw Del's chest rise and fall as if a deep breath was whooshing from her lungs. She was relaxing herself, all the while, holding off Damian's blades.

"They've been doing this for almost a month now…I think Damian's been _teaching_ her." Dick explained, his own eyes following the girl when she managed to shove Damian back. In the blink it took him to regain himself, Del worked her swords in between his own. Clamping her blades down on the weapon she twisted, sending the sword skirting across the floor.

"And I think-I think it's been helping _him_. I mean, look how he is compared to how he was when he got here." Dick made an interesting point, but it could do nothing to erase the glower Bruce felt on his face. When Damian first arrived, the kid trained to the point of exhaustion. It was as if he knew he couldn't control himself otherwise. Even now he was still being his relentless self, but maybe putting himself in that mentor position had let him channel his need to attack into something more.

"Don't get me wrong, they still beat the crap out of each other, but she does something wrong he's quick to correct her. I think he takes pride in teaching her." Dick added, watching as Damian wrenched one of his sister's swords away from her.

The hilt of the sword felt tacky in her hand, he had sliced it pretty good, but Del hold her own, feeling her feet slide back on the damp mat as the swords clenched together. Both their hands shout out for the handle of the opposing sword, but Del managed to grab the bottom of his hilt first. Twisting his wrist she scooped the sword from him. Turning the hilts in her hands she jammed the blades into the wall behind her. She pulled her body up once again, ready to kick out, but Damian was already springing back. He had picked up on some of her favorite skills, but by now she had begun to make a study of him too.

"Master Damian joins her for her runs too it seems."

Bruce minded his face as he twisted to look at the old butler. "You knew about this?"

"Oh? You thought they stitched themselves back up? Hardly, Sir." Alfred replied, setting down a tray. The first aid kit. "I do wish they wouldn't get blood on the equipment."

"Sorry Alfred!" Delilah called as they pair gunned for each other, both leaping up and knocking each other back on the mat. That didn't stop her from reaching over and smacking Damian on the foot. "What do you know…" she hissed as the sound of ragged breaths filled the room. "You do bleed."

"A lot less than you." Damian retorted.

Del rolled to her side, aware her own foot was stinging, she didn't have to look down to know the red mark of the boy's hand was imprinted on her flesh. "You should be in bed." She said, rising in her father's shadow.

"Like a person could sleep with the two of you around." He replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "When you're done bleeding, I'd like to see you and Dick in my office." The girl just stared at him, as he ambled back out into the hall without so much as another word. Uh oh.

* * *

Try as she may, Del couldn't stop her body from shuddering in its adrenaline withdrawals. Hand wrapped and back stitched, she slunk behind Dick, feeling the floor change from the cold touch of marble to the plush strands of carpet.

Her father only peered at them over his hands. "Close the door." Del did, aware of the shadow that clung close the wall just outside. Not that she could blame the kid for being curious. Del's fingers sank into the back of one of the chairs, shaking her head when her father gestured for them to sit. Ripping stitches didn't sound like a good time.

"You want to explain to us what's going on?" Dick asked, pressing his elbows into his knees as he leaned forward. It was then Bruce Wayne lifted the papers in front of him and handed them to the young man. Del scooted closer, eyeing her father when he rose from his chair and wandered toward the window.

"What is this?" Dick asked sharply, rearing his head up, but Wayne didn't so much a flinch.

"You know what it is, Dick. You can be impulsive, but I know you're not stupid."

Feeling Del's thin fingers touching his shoulder, Dick threw the packet back on the desk. "It's a last will and testament." He told her, letting his glance slide from her when her father finally turned around.

"Think of it as a contingency plan."

The words didn't put any color back into his daughter's face. "If something happens while you're still a minor, Dick is to become your guardian. Everything, and I mean _everything _is bequeathed to you." At his words, Del snatched the will off his desk. "W-why just me? What about Dick? What about Damian?"

"No outside claim from anyone. I trust you to fund your bothers as needed."

Staring at the small print was starting to make her queasy. Even the choice of the next Batman was left to her. Just like Dick had done, she tossed the papers back on his desk. "Why are you leaving that up to me?"

Del leaned her weight on the chair. Sitting there in that hospital room, waiting for him to open his eyes it occurred to her that if he was to leave them, their world would be in disarray, and it wouldn't just be from the aftermath of grief. Dick, Jason and now Damian would all stand to inherit the life of Batman. Jason and Damian would kill for it. Taking the choice away from them could save their lives, if it didn't crush her under the pressure. "It's a lot." The words made the girl lift her eyes from her hands. "I know what I'm asking is a lot, but I know you can handle it, should it ever come to that."

All the girl could do was nod. Who wanted to think about their only parent dying? How could she want to imagine her life without him in it? It was uncomfortable to say the least. It was enough to drive them to silence. "There's something else we need to discuss." She said evenly, stopping only to clear her throat. "If you're going to be down for the next couple months, it also means that Batman will be MIA."

Bruce came to lean on his desk, watching her stop to stare at her hands. "And with my boneheaded comment…people might put two and two together."

"What are you suggesting then?"

"I think Dick should take up the cowl in your absence." She said, aware that Dick was staring at her. Her father seemed to take a deep breath as if he wasn't too keen on the idea either. When a knock came to the door, the man slid his weight off the desk.

"You might have a point." He grumbled, as he wrenched the door open. Poor Alfred back tracked a step with his wide dark eyes, so uncertain of his master's scowl. "Master Drake to see you, Sir."

"Might? Is it that hard to say, 'You're right'?" She asked, pressing her hands into her hips, as her father moved from the doorway to let Tim slip by.

"You're just in time." He said under his breath. Sighing he shut the door again. "Dick…"

"Yeah?"

"Would you?"

"If that's what you want, Boss."

With that Bruce jerked his thumb to the door. "Out. Meet you down stairs in twenty."

Delilah didn't linger, she turned on her heel and headed after Dick, trying to offer a sympathetic face for the uncertain Tim.

"And Del…" The girl stopped, holding herself up in the doorway with her hands. "Drag the eavesdropper with you."

* * *

"What do you mean you want Tim as Robin?! I'm the only one fit to be Robin!"

Del rolled her eyes as Damian's voice echoed down the stairs. "In a few years, I'll be the only one who deserves to be Batman."

"That's not up to you." Dick groaned.

"Right, it was left up to her!"

Del turned her head at that, finding the boy's dark green eyes glowering at her. "Should I kill you now? Or later?"

"You do realize this all hinges on a hypothetical situation, right?" Del shook her head, marching to the table when she spotted her black canvas bag. "I'd prefer it if no one died." She added, frowning when she found the bag light to the touch. Sure enough the contents were gone.

"_Tch_. Right, in your world, pigs would fly and unicorns would fart rainbows or some such nonsense."

"I don't know, I've seen pigs fly." Dick called; the sound of his feet on the metal platform seemed to echo through the place. "Apparently, you've never seen Bats handle a dirty cop." The man leaned on the railing, watching the girl dig around below him. "Del, is this what you're looking for?" he asked, jerking his thumb to the case behind him.

Del didn't even try to catch the box in her hands; it simply cascaded to the floor with a bang, slinging its contents on the ground. "I didn't put that there…" she said softly, minding where she stepped as she moved her way to the platform.

The case hissed as she released the door. "Did you?"

But Dick only shook his head.

"_I_ did."

Del let her hand fall to her side as she twisted to the sound of her father's voice. "It may be yours," he said slipping from the shadow of the stairs, "but it's not what you'll be using anymore." Dick reached over her and closed the case, forcing the girl to step aside. She looked as lost as Tim, frozen in place as Bruce moved his way to a darker corner of the cave. Dick literally had to shove the girl to get her to move.

Del stumbled her way down the steps, suddenly aware of the black shapes in the cave that she couldn't place. The sheet fell in a ripple. "From now on…"

The teen could only stare up at the black and yellow bat-suit. He had tailored it to her in a near mirror of his own. Only the cowl was different. The mask was full, revealing no part of her face. Fingers lingering in the air, she hesitated to touch it. But the moment the girl felt the small ridges under the pads of her fingers she knew the material.

"This is…"

"Sam's material." He shrugged at his gawking daughter. " I bumped into Sam during my stay at Gotham Memorial, she and I had plenty to discuss."

"Did you-"

"Did I tell her? No, but I left that to Barbra's discretion if the need arose. I only expressed that I would like to make a prototype of her work." He said handing the cowl to her. He watched her reach inside, no doubt feeling the mouth piece. "I had a few adjustments made. I didn't think she'd mind."

Del stepped to the side, letting the three boys behind her peer in. "A circuit exoskeleton?"

"Sensitive microphone in the fingertips, communicator, infrared, and recording device in the mask itself. And yes, it can cancel your speech patterns if that's what you want. That includes your oxygen tank in the mouth piece."

"Explains why the ears are so long." Dick said, touching the mask as it drooped in Del's hands. If he didn't know any better he'd say the girl was overwhelmed. Bruce expected a lot of things; her silence wasn't one of them. He moved to the next sheet, letting the glow of the monitors fall on the black and red suit.

"I can't say I've had two robins at once, to keep the chatter clear, you're Red Robin."

"This is unnecessary."

"_Damian_."

Tim on the other hand seemed unruffled, he simply nodded.

"Here's how this is going to work out, and if it doesn't I'll be bashing your heads together." Bruce said, leading his minions across the cave floor. "While I'm stuck here, Dick will use the bat-suit. Damian, you're with him."

"What?! You want to put me with _Grayson_?!"

"I can't let you go off on your own. You clearly can't work with Tim. That leaves Dick or Del. And while I know your sister can keep you in check, I don't know if I trust you two together. So that leaves you with Dick. Robin stays with Batman. Period."

"Hey, I'm not thrilled about it either." Dick put in, watching Bruce put his fingers to his forehead as if he were already regretting this.

"Del you and Tim team up. We'll work out a rotation schedule."

"So Bat-girl gets the most advanced suit?" Damian asked.

"Jelly much?"

The boy's face twisted into a smirk. "No, it just means you can't hack it without the technology."

"As I recall you were bleeding as much as I was this morning." Del shot back, making sure to smile. He_ loved_ it when she did that. Maybe pissing off a psychopath isn't the smartest idea, but it can definitely pass the time.

"ALFRED! ASPIRIN!"

Bruce had just put his fingers to his temples when the alarm on the computer began to scream, sending the bats in frenzy. "Suit up!" The man didn't have to say it twice; he simply sank into his chair, listening to their feet as they scurried around him.

Del glanced up at the computer, studying the young face on the screen. As a socialite her father always had contingency plans for the event that she herself was kidnapped. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine what it would be like to be held hostage by Killer Croc.

"Del! Quit standing around!" But the girl simply reached over him, setting a pack of aspirin in front of him.

"Take these and go to bed." She told him. "We'll link up with Oracle tonight."

He just stared at her. "Dad, you're going to have to trust us." _You have to trust that she'll make the most of what you taught her._

The sharp corners of the packet felt as though they were cutting into his palm. "Del…" Her busy fingers fell from her braided hair as she stalked toward her bike. Even though she had tried so hard to keep her hair pinned out of the way, Bruce could still see the fine dark wisps framing her face.

Lifting her eyes to him, her mouth opened and then closed again, forcing the girl to sigh when the words wouldn't come out so willingly. "I'll be okay." She told him, her fingers curling into the fabric of her mask. Her words may have been marked with confidence, but all Bruce could see was fear shining back at him.

"I know." He murmured, unsure if she even heard him over the roar of her bike. She was his daughter after all, but the thought didn't lift weight off his shoulders. Alone with the bats, the man reached into his pocket, revealing the small alabaster shell in the glow of the computer. Like so many nights before the man didn't budge, he simply waited, squeezing the shell into his palm as if it would soak up his doubts. Something, something wasn't right, and these children weren't ready. _He_ wasn't ready.


	17. Big Brother Dick Part 1

**AN:** Late, Again. Had a little trouble deciding where to stop this one. Part two will be up on Sunday. :D

* * *

I was at a loss, drowning in a sea of people as we crowded at the crosswalk. It had almost been a year since Mom and I walked these streets, stomping on snow flakes and clouding the air with our breath. From the moment I learned that I would be stepping out of Wayne Manor, I was giddy, but now, feeling the shadows of adults pressing in on me as we waited for the traffic to slow, any flutter I felt that morning had died. I'd never been here without Mom. I had never crossed these streets without her hand. The slower the slew of cars became, the more my palms seemed to sweat. Ahead of me, I could hear Dad chatting on despite the clamor of sighing breaks and blaring horns. I tugged on the hem of his coat, earning an over the shoulder glare. "Not now." He hissed, returning to his call without so much as a second glance.

"I just-"

The light chirped into the air, forcing the crowd to herd us forward. I had tried so hard to keep up with my father's long strides, but in a blink he was gone, swallowed by the masses. I remember reaching out and finding nothing but air until black leather glove rescued my flailing fingers. "I've got'cha." Dick could have endeared me to him with lesser words. Hand in hand we moved across the street, hopping over the white lines oblivious to the sullen stares of the gargoyles above our heads.

We were met at the curb with a scowl and the rhythm of a tapping foot. "She just wanted to hold your hand." The tapping stopped. No two people could fail to speak like my father and a five year old child. To many holding a kid's hand when they crossed the street was normal. To my father, the concept was completely foreign. So foreign he needed a translator.

"Why didn't you…"

I couldn't stop my glare; it was enough to make my father's lips form into a perfect 'O'.

"Boss, why don't you finish your errand, I'll take the squirt."

That brought my father's gaze from the looming gray clouds; the words seemed to make his body collapse with relief as if he'd been liberated from one of the most awkward situations in his life. And yet all the man could do was nod. His eyes swept over me and for the briefest of moments I was sure his twitching lips would open, but then he turned away, disappearing down the snow banked streets.

"You don't mind, do you?"

"No…" I whispered, watching my father grow smaller and smaller. "He doesn't really like me all that much, does he?"

I felt the weight of Dick's hand on my head as he ruffled my hair. "Oh, the troglodyte likes you." He assured, steering me in the opposite direction. "He's just…he's not good at showing his emotions." I stared at Dick's outstretched hand, watching the flurries skid across his glove. "So! Shall we see the jolly old fat man?" As his fingers curled around mine, I could feel my lips mimicking his wide smile. I guess the translator worked both ways.

* * *

"MAMA!" I could still feel her name ripping from my mouth, even when awareness had begun to work its way back to me. My chest ached, heavy with the pressure of the unshed sobs and yet through the hot blur of my tears, I could make out the shape of someone's crouching form.

"It's alright, Kiddo. It's just a dream."

"B-but she was right there!" I protested, trying to hold the shuddering sobs, and yet as Dick's fingers pushed the sweat soaked hair from my face they burst from me anyway. Dick's shadow seemed to block out the moonlight when he rose to his feet. I'm not sure what I expected. But I wasn't expecting him to scoop me from my twisted sheets. It was if he knew - he knew I needed someone to cling to. If he had any objections to me pressing my sticky cheek into his neck while I wept, he didn't say so. "I know…I know." His voice whispered. "Trust me, I know."

By the time the light from the hall spilled into the corner of my room, I was reduced to hiccups. "Master Dick?"

"Don't worry about it, Al, I've got it." Dick murmured. "It's just another nightmare."

"All _that_ for a stupid nightmare? You would have thought someone was killing her." At the sound of Jason's voice I realized that I had managed to wake the entire house once again.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"

"You're not the only one in this house who has dead parents you know. Hell, at least one of yours is still alive. Suck it up."

"She's four. Stop being such an ass."

"As if you've never had a nightmare or two, Master Jason." Alfred muttered his raspy voice wandering down the hall, leaving us in the dark.

"One…two…"

"Three…four…" I murmured, hardly recognizing the small voice that left me. But I knew the moment we reached ten and took a deep breath, Dick would give me one more bear hug and set me to my feet. He didn't have to pull his exhausted body out of bed for the howling of a child he barley knew. He didn't have to hold me until the tremors of my hiccups disappeared. Thank God he did.

"I'll grab some sheets, you change." He murmured, ruffling my hair before slipping into the darkness of the hall.

"Nightmare?"

At the sound of Bruce's voice my searching fingers paused. He had heard me too? Fighting back the waves of dread, I snatched a set of pajamas from the jaws of my dresser.

"Yeah. I've got it." A pause. "A word or two from dear ol' Dad wouldn't hurt."

I couldn't hear Bruce over the skimming of Dick's bare feet as they drew closer to my door. I had no choice but to retreat to the bathroom. Maybe a small part of me didn't want to know what the man had to say.

In the faint lamp light, the dark circles under Dick's eyes looked like bruises, and yet here he was, tussling with a fitted sheet. I immediately grabbed a corner and stuffed the folds under the mattress aware that his broad chest seemed to concave.

"What Jason said…is it true?" I whispered, working my way to the next corner, but Dick had gone utterly still. Remembering he still had a corner of the sheet fisted in his fingers he worked it over the mattress. He didn't even look up at me as he bent down to retrieve the next sheet. It seemed to billow over the bed like a parachute, and all I could do was reach for the ends when it landed.

"Yeah…my parents died when I was younger." He finally answered, snapping up a pillow case.

"How-how did they die?"

Dick stared down at the pillow he had stuffed. "We were the _flying Graysons_. Acrobats in Haley's Circus."

"That explains a lot." I said, winning a wisp of a smile. But the smile didn't live for very long.

"Their high wire was cut." He said, tossing the pillow on the bed. "They never used nets." He didn't have to fill in the blanks. I'd seen the same sallow look on my own face. The look of someone who saw something they could never un-see. Not even when they slept. With the summoning pat of his hand I crawled myself back into bed, aware that Dick was still rushing to get his thoughts back together.

"You miss them?"

"Every day." He whispered, his weight settling on the edge of the bed as he leaned in to tuck the sheets around me. "Okay, snug as a bug?"

But I couldn't get my mouth to work. I just stared at him, watching the light flicker on his face. "What? Was it something I said?"

"Mama used to say that." I whispered, watching that sorrowful smile crease his face.

"Mine did too. Now are you snug or not?"

"As a bug in a rug." Pressing my fingers to my lips I touched his scruffy cheek. "Do they ever stop?" I asked, as Dick's tall from seemed to unfold before my eyes. But the young man just shook his head.

"I wish-I wish I could tell you that you'll stop thinking about it. Or that you won't dream about it ever again…but I can't. After a while it just gets numb."

"I wish I was numb _now_." I grumbled, blinking to adjust my eyes to shadows when he turned out the lamp.

"That, Kiddo, is going to take time." He murmured, leaving a kiss on my cheek. Not even Alfred did that. "At least…at least you're not alone." He added, as he shuffled for the door.

"Dick?"

I could still see his shadow leaning on the door as if it were holding his lanky body upright. "Hmm?"

"You're not alone either…not anymore."

* * *

At this time of year, Gotham could almost pass as normal. When the oversized decorations came out so did a side of Gotham that has to been seen to be believed. Somehow in this bitter cold, there was warmth in the air, rivaling the smell of cinnamon and sugar. I always found it strange how a few glittering lights and giant baubles could put smiles on people's faces. A little bit of plastic and a few bars of jingle bells and everyone seemed to be nicer to each other. Of course not all of it would be entirely genuine, but we take what we can get around here.

"Why can't it be this way all the time?" I asked, craning my neck to peer up at the behemoth of a fir tree that stood in the center of the square. But my eyes quickly slid away from the shimmer of the massive decorations to the gleaming giant that was Wayne Tower.

I could still hear Dick prattling on about Christmas music and the apocalypse, but when he realized that my eyes had wandered his words slurred to a halt. "Maybe not exactly this way…" Dick amended, giving me a gentle pull, forcing me to drag my eyes from the building. But the second we got a glimpse of the line for Santa, we both stopped.

"Yeah…uh, how about…_no_?"

The man beside me seemed to sag with relief. "You're officially the best kid ever."

Any thought to giggle or laugh was quickly dismissed at the feel of hand on my shoulder. "Excuse me? I whirled on my heel, Dick's grip keeping me from falling over my own feet when I found a man crouched behind me, my scarf dangling in his hand.

"You dropped this." He said, his lips twisting into something that I could only guess to be a smile, but it never seemed to reach his narrow blue eyes. I couldn't tell if his long blonde ponytail was wet from the snow or just greasy. It took everything I had not to snatch the scarf from his blunt fingers.

"D, what do you say?" Dick's fingers felt tight around my hand, as if he were making sure to hold me in place.

"Thank you, Sir."

But before I could retrieve the scarf, the man reached up and wrapped it around my neck. "You're very welcome, Pretty One." He said softly, his boots scuffing as he pulled himself upright. "Cute kid you've got, but you look kinda young to be a dad."

Dick's smile was a tight. "I get that a lot." He answered, letting his arm wrap around my shoulder. I knew better than to utter a word. "Thanks again."

But the man just nodded. "No problem. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

I could feel the dread worming its way through my body as we watched the man slip into the crowd. Dick quickly whipped me around, sitting back on his haunches as if he were fixing my coat. "Del, if you see that man again while we're here and I'm not right next to you, I want you to go inside the tower." He said gently, his nimble fingers stuffing the lopsided scarf into my coat. "You know where the stairs are, right?"

My stomach felt like it was doing flips. "Y-yeah."

"I want you to go all the way to the top floor. The penthouse is unlocked. So you'll go inside and you'll lock the door behind you. You understand?"

Only when I nodded did he give my arm a reassuring shake. "It's just in case okay?"

"You know him don't you? He's not good is he?"

"No, no he's not." Dick whispered, his fingers plucking a small brown feather from my scarf.

* * *

By the time the lights lit up the square the sky had flushed into a brilliant shade of orange. I could feel my blades digging into the ice as I, like so many stopped to watch the tree as it slowly worked itself into a full on glow. Even Dick paused beside me, the small wisps of snow blowing against us, making our ears and nose as red as red as a hat on a drunken Santa.

"So, what _do_ you want for Christmas?"

"Nothing…"

I could see his gawking reflection in the ice. His hand certainly felt like ice on my forehead. "Well, you're not hot. So you're not sick…"

"Nothing. Nevermind. It's stupid." I said, whirling away from him, but you know how fast those people with long legs can be. He just circled around me.

"Stupid? I like stupid. C'mon let's hear it."

I grabbed the wall to stop myself from sliding. "I want a _real _Christmas dinner."

"Look, I know Alfred's not the best cook in the world-"

"That's not what I mean!" I snipped. "Last year it was just me and Alfred." Leaning on the low wall, I could feel the cold bleeding through my coat. Dick was just staring at me. But then his shoulders seemed roll. "I know Dad might have to work…" I mumbled when he filled the space beside me. "Told you it was stupid."

I went to push off, when my brother grabbed me by my sleeve. "Hold it." He commanded, reeling me back in as if I were a fish. "It's not stupid." He said, bumping me in the shoulder. "Chances of the four of us having a dinner together _are_ slim."

"See!" The second his glove went over my mouth, I felt my hands perch to my hips.

"But breakfast might have better odds." He added, letting his glove slide from my lips when I felt my muscles go slack. "You'll have to learn to compromise."

"As long as it's not waffles."

I love the sound of Dick's laugh, it's the kind of sound that builds slowly, but you know it's coming. And by the time he has his head tilted titled and those laugh lines creased at his eyes, you're laughing too. It took us a second to gain our composure, sure we had total strangers staring at us, but they've never had Alfred's waffles.

"You about ready? Your nose is about to fall off."

"Awe, can't I do a couple more laps? Please?" In truth I knew the night was coming, the sooner I quit, the sooner Dick would have to go out on patrol. The moment that happened, I would go back to my prison.

He stopped knocking the ice of his blades. "I tell you what, I'm going to take these off, grab some nuts and we'll people watch until they're gone. That gives you enough time for three laps."

"Okay."

"You don't what?"

"Leave this rink."

" Atta' Girl." With his praise I shoved myself away from the wall and back into the flow of skating traffic, aware that the lights were slowly growing brighter around me. Looping around I could see Dick watching me as he wandered for the nearest vendor, his lips pursed as if he were whistling the same song that that hung over the hum of the city.

Sliding to the opening, I rolled my knotted boots off my shoulder, holding them up for Dick to see. With a nod and a point to the bench I waddled my way through the thin layer of snow on my blades. With half numb fingers working on the knots on my laces, I kept an ear to the air, listening to the music echo through the square.

"O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum, wie true sind deine Blätter." With a glance I could see Dick's broad back as he dug into his pocket, his face beaming as he flirted with the lady vendor. God, of all the things for him to pick up from my father. Shaking my head I started jamming my feet into my icy boots, listening to the sound of his shoes as they scuffed through the snow. I could feel my lips twisting, ready to tease him for his unabashed trifling, but when I lifted my head, I didn't see Dick. I saw _him._

"Oh, Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree, your branches green delight us. Your Mommy teach you that?"

"M-my Dad's coming back." I told him, so sure that Dick would turn and see him there, but then again, I couldn't see Dick over this man.

His teeth gleamed in the soft glow of the lights, but he seemed to be smiling more at the ground than me. "We both know that's not your dad." He said, shaking his head. _Oh, no._

"You don't want to meet my dad." I said evenly, feeling my fingers dig into the snow that had layered on the bench.

He sniffed, like he was choking on a laugh. "Who? The rich man? Oh, come on, Pretty One. He doesn't scare me in the slightest."

"He'd kick your butt into the middle of next year. He's mean." I said, lifting my chin. I had to get away. "And so am I." The snow in my fisted hand hit him in the face with a _splat_. I scrambled over the bench, just as he shook of the remnants of my attack. The sound of my untied laces dragging on the ground chased me into the crowd. I dodged and ducked under rosy cheeked shoppers with their last minute boxes and bags. "Sorry! Excuse me!"

In the chaos of the shouts and the jingle of bells I could hear Dick yelling my name, but I couldn't call back, my lungs wouldn't let me, not when I could hear the man behind me. I swooped under a suit's arm as he slipped out of the glass doors of Wayne Tower, missing his look of bewilderment as I darted through the emptying lobby for the stairwell. "Sorry Sir!"

"Hey kid! What the hell are you doing?!" Great. Now security was on me? Lovely. But just as I slid into the stairwell, only through the sliver of glass in the door did I see the man get caught by security. "Sir! Sir! I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

_Don't stay here. _As soon as the thought entered my head, I turned and started up the dimly lit stairs, well aware of the voices that were carrying through the lobby. Dad was just going to _love_ this. By the first flight my lungs were ready to burst, but when the stairwell door smacked open, I had no choice but to duck through the second floor door.

I knew this floor. I'd come here nearly every day of my life up until the last year. I bolted down the hall, dodging through parents and their wrapped up kids as they bottlenecked at the elevator doors all trying to make it home for Christmas Eve.

"Isn't that Paige's girl?" I heard, as I weaved my way down the hall trying to remind myself to slow down, not to look panicked. "Delilah?" _Don't look back. Don't look back_. _Just make it to the other elevators._

Like I expected, the second elevator bay was practically empty, I ran for one, jamming on the up button until one popped open. "Delilah, wait!" The sound of his voice all but propelled me into elevator. "Please! Please! Please! C'mon, _come on!_" I cried, mashing on the button.

The doors closed just as he came into a view, but before he could pry the door open, the elevator already began to lift up the shaft. The slow pull was enough to let me crumble to the floor in a gasping mess.

When the elevator opened to the top floor, I crawled out on my hands and knees, aware that my boots were still loose on my feet, as I slowly pulled myself off the ground. There was a moment I was sure the door was still locked, but when the big heavy door to the penthouse finally gave way I all but collapsed inside as I fumbled to lock the door.

It was the first time I had ever been inside the penthouse; however my own curiosity took a backseat as I slid all the way to the floor, pressing my cheek to the cold hard ground. I just laid there, watching the lights below flicker from red to green and back again. Just over the sound of my own ragged breathing I could still hear the music blaring into the darkness. _We wish you a Merry Christmas, We wish you a Merry Christmas, We wish you a Merry Christmas, and a happy New Year! _Maybe Dick was right. Maybe Christmas music could be the harbinger of the apocalypse.

* * *

_It's just a new suit, it changes nothing. You know what you're doing. _The girl's feet hit the ground without a sound. Ignoring the briny stench of the bay, she pulled herself from the crouch, just as three more shadows joined her in the underbelly of the shipyards. Somewhere in these winding veins was an eight year old kid. A Max.

"_They've made the drop, and cut the power. Croc is engaged, but I doubt you'll have a very big window." _

"We'll have to make it work." Del only glanced at Dick, feeling her breath rushing out of her. Dark confined spaces. The dark was one thing, but the tight corridors? Just the thought was enough to make the tips of her fingers tingle.

"O, what can you tell us about the hostage?" The voice on the other end was silent, as if the girl's voice alone had caught Barbra Gordon off guard.

"_The hostage is eight year old, Edward Killinger Jr, the Killinger's just put up the money for a five million dollar ransom." _

Strange. Five million seemed like pennies, especially when the child Croc was holding came from the same family that ran the _Killinger's Department Store_. The chain nearly put all other big names in the area out of business.

Del worked herself into the darkness, letting her eyes adjust to the world in infrared view, as they slipped further into an underworld of the pipes and passageways. "Take a deep breath." With the stench of seawater and sewage floating in the air a part of her didn't want to, but at Dick's words, her lungs filled themselves greedily. "It won't stay this narrow for long." He murmured, hand heavy on her shoulder.

As promised the narrow scaffolding gave way to a larger opening, forcing them to break up in teams when the passage split apart. She and Tim hadn't made it very far when she spotted the light of a cigarette off in the distance. The metal floor dug into her knees as she squatted, yanking Tim with her. Del had never seen these two before, but _he_ certainly had.

"_Tommy Harper. I.R.A gun runner. He's got a metal plate in his head, hit him with something magnetic, and vertigo will take care of the rest. I suggest the left temple." _

"So much for trusting us." Del hissed, ignoring, Tim's slack face as her father's voice faded from their ears. As if he'd be above hijacking communication links. Hah.

"_I trust you to do exactly as I say." _

"And the other guy?"

"_Spider Hancock, Gotham muscle, he's got a couple broken ribs - they're still fresh."_

"How could you possibly know that?!"

"_I'm Batman."_

Yes, yes he was.

"Red Bird, you got anything magnetic?" Even in the dark she could see Tim's witty smile.

"_No_. I just carry magnets for fun."

* * *

_This is real. This is happening._ But her mind barely had time to acknowledge the thought when they sprang from the darkness. Tim had his mark lying on the floor and yet Del was still ducking under Spider Hancock's fists, falling back with every swing he took. _Let him think he's in control._

"_Stop hesitating!" _

Feeling a round valve pressing into her leg, the girl knew she was right where she wanted be.

"_Damn it Girl!" _

"I know what I'm doing!" Del hissed through her teeth, feeling Spider's fist meet her block as she leapt back on the large water valve. The second she dropped, he fell forward, slamming his fist into the wall behind her, showering her with bits of plaster and concrete as the wall cracked under the pressure.

With a twist of her wrist the girl loosened the valve, knocking the man back with the force of the water that spewed out. "So let me get back to it!" Pushing up from her grip on the valve she flipped forward, leaping at the man. For a second she was sure she could feel his ribs give way under her feet. Spider slid down the opposing wall in a soaked groaning heap as the girl landed hard on her feet. There was nothing in her ear but silence.

If there were two people here, it left her to wonder just what exactly Batman and Robin might find. "_What is it?" _What? Was the man reading her mind now?

"Something's not right." The words had Tim slowing on the stairs beside her. "Let's just assume for a second that Batman and Robin find the same kind of people. How much would it cost to hire just four people with that kind of skill set?" Finding light at the bottom of the stairs the girl had to force herself not to rush for it. Just beyond them…was Edward.

"_More than the ransom…"_

The words speared any relief she had felt. So someone was setting this up. But who? Tim reached the glass vault first, his presence making the blonde hair boy peer up at them over the round rims of his glasses. "It's sealed!" he cried, scrambling to his knobby knees.

"Nothing a little C4 can't fix. Get down, and cover your head."

"What? I didn't get any C4, what the hell?" She snipped, just a Tim shoved her into the wall. The door blew off with a bang, shooting the hot hunk of metal across the room.

"So much for doing this quietly." She heard Dick grumble as he and Damian came rushing down the second set of stairs. "Oh and we missed the fireworks. How did _he _get the c4?"

"You're not _always_ this way, are you?"

Del was sure she could feel a smirk working its way onto her lips, but the moment she turned, everything went numb. "LOOK OUT!" No sooner had the words left her mouth, did Croc come spring from the darkness.

"WOAH! Down Ugly!" Swiping Robin with one arm, Batman rolled out of the way, barely missing Killer Croc's jaws when they smacked in the air. How many times had she seen his picture on the Bat-computer? How many times had she read her father's reports? And yet, as Batgirl looked up at the creature she realized that no matter how she tried, she could never have imagined this beast.

Waylon Jones, her father learned was born with a severe case of atavism. But Waylon had been thrown so far back into the gene pool, he had taken on reptilian traits, and it only regressed from there, leaving this gigantic crocodilian creature in his place.

"This doesn't concern you bats!"

Del could still feel his growl rumbling under her feet. "Take the boy!" Del cried, pulling Tim back. "Go, up through the hatches." He didn't hesitate. He didn't stop to argue or ask why; he just whipped right back around, snagged Edward killinger off the floor.

Making sure they made it through the hatch over their heads, Del turned just in time to see Batman's head snap back under the blow of the metal brief case in Croc's clawed grip.

"Hyper sonic frequencies, right?"

"_Yes."_

But just as the girl was dashing across the damp concrete floor, something caught her eye. Someone else was here. Something that moved just a little too much like a ninja. Reaching to the small of her back, she pulled free the small sword that was hidden beneath her cape. The league of assassins? They certainly had enough money to hire the mercenaries. But why would they even piddle with a five million dollar ransom? But Del knew the truth. Truth was- they wouldn't. It wasn't the money they wanted. But what the hell were they after?

"ROBIN!"

"_Don't!"_

The second Damian's head popped up, she hurled it, watching his eyes widen when he reached up to catch the weapon, but with a nod to the scaffolding, he was off. Like he knew…

"I trust him."

On the list of things she would probably never do, launching herself on the back of a crocodile would probably be listed in her top 10. The second she landed on Croc's back he knew it. He thrashed about trying to dislodge her, but the girl held tight, blood tricking down his back from her grasp. It was enough of a distraction, that when Batman landed a punch Croc's head snapped back from the force, flinging saliva into the air.

Del crawled, aware that Croc's scales were tearing beneath her. With each rip, she could feel the scream ripping out of him. Digging her hand in, the girl worked a pair of hyper sonic electrodes from her belt. Dad would give her these but no C4? What a bust! With one slapped on his head, Croc gave a violent shake. It was enough to tear the very scale she was holding from his body. The girl went flying over the dashboard and smack into the concrete below.

"I think I'll eat you first!" Del slipped back in a crab walk as the creature opened his gaping mouth, his teeth came down, just as Dick swooped in on her. The points of Croc's fangs only seemed to graze her, ripping the sleeve of her suit off entirely.

Thrown to the ground, Del tumbled to her feet, too aware that her arm was torn. Or that the ground was trembling with the sound of Croc's growls. "_Batgirl!"_ At the sound of a scream, her eyes fled from the mangled flesh of her arm, popping up, just in time to see Batman's fist break through Croc's teeth.

"_DEL!" _

"Yeah?" The word left her in a whisper, too engulfed in watching Dick twist and kick, or flip over the beast to pay any attention. Only when Croc dropped to the ground screaming did she realize that her hands were empty. How had he managed to save her and grab the electrode at the same time?

"_Arm. Arteries." _

The teen's eyes dropped to her arm, blinking at the small red pool she'd been creating, or for that matter how much the exposed wires of her suit were burning into her. "Clear." When Dick finally resurfaced, Croc was a mangled heap of chains.

"I better not get rabies." She stated, wincing when he grabbed her arm. He gave a low whistle. "Look at you, bleeding like a stuck pig."

"Oh, right, and that's just paint running down the side of your mouth?" She asked, watching him rub it off with the back of his glove.

"Edward?"

"Topside with the red bird." It should have been a relief. "We've got another problem…League of Assassins are involved somehow. I spotted one and I sent Robin after them."

No chastising. No yelling. No "What were you thinking?!" Batman's chest just caved as if his lungs were expelling the biggest breath he'd ever taken in his life. Had he been holding it all this time? "Let's find him before he gets in over his head."

* * *

Edward Killinger was safe. A family got their little boy back. And yet, as Delilah trolled the rooftops, she felt no relief. It was all a rouse. They had put a child's life in danger just to draw them out. But why?

"_You need to walk. You can't use that arm like that." _

"Not until I find Damian." She huffed, but in the midst of her defiance, the bloodied thing gave out, sending the girl crashing on the rooftop below. She rolled on impact, feeling the asphalt top dig into the exposed skin. The second the world stopped rolling the girl laid there, watching the gray clouds swirl together in a sky that should have been inky black. "Shit." The unbidden hiss slipped from her lips as she peeled herself up. "Don't _even _say it."

"_Wasn't going to." _

"Yeah right."

But as the girl began collecting herself back up, something in the glare of the city lights ahead of her caught her eye, the glint of a sword perhaps?

"_Wait for Batman." _

But Del was already leaping for the next building, forcing herself to use her weaker arm. "There isn't enough time." She said biting back the groan that threatened to roll out of her mouth as the girl landed more on her knees than on her feet. She made a dash for the shadows, just as the voice of the clock tower began to ring out over the city.

"Dad, he's not alone, there's too many… what do I do?"

Leaning against the brick façade, Del could feel the cold all but numbing her through her suit. _Take a deep breath. Calm down. _At first the girl was sure he didn't hear her over the tolling of the clock. 9. 10. 11. 12. Midnight.

"_Exactly what I tell you."_

All Damian could taste could taste was blood. Not even the bitter cold could steal the metallic tang from his mouth. Still alive. _Still alive. _It was more than he could say for the bodies he had left in his wake. Even in this city's faint light, he could still make out the gleam of the dark red trails that had pooled along the rooftop. Gear or no gear, sword or no sword, he didn't come to have his face in the gravel by choice.

The boy was fighting to control his heaving chest, when his mother's boot stepped into his line of sight. Her shadow did nothing to shield him from the sleet that was spitting down on them. "Have you forsaken your own mother?" She asked, forcing his head off the ground with the tips of her digging fingers. Damian could feel bits of gravel falling from his cheek as his eyes slid from her to the sky as the bat signal threw the city into even more darkness. It was enough to make Talia Al Ghul lift her head to the sky. But even in this new darkness, he could see her lips twisting into a mocking smile.

"The Circus Oaf managed to pull it off."

The boy's eyes narrowed, so that's what this was. They were trying to take a shot at Grayson while his father was down.

"What?" his mother asked, looking from the boy to the now blank sky. "Did you honestly think he would come for you?" She let his head drop, her silky laugh rising into the air like the steam off the city streets.

Lying there, Damian peered through the legs of those around him, blinking when he saw a body slide to the ground without a sound.

"It's time to come home, Damian. Playtime is over."

The second he was pulled back to his feet, the boy shrugged off the adults who had him by the arms.

"You wanted me to learn from my father, so I am." He answered, watching her go rigid at his words. "Don't tell me you're going to complain about the results."

Without warning the child leapt, kicking away the two men he stood between. Before she could even draw her sword on him, the boy had already landed, and was springing back with a flip, reaching out for a sword that had been tossed into the air. Someone had come for him after all.

Del could feel Damian's back pressing into hers. She knew the shiver of adrenaline when she felt it, like the roll of a tide. The tremor seemed to be traveling down the boy's spine. In the faint light, she could see the sleet sticking to the tracks of blood on his face. Jesus. He was only 10. "You gonna live?" She asked, watching the circle close tighter around them.

"_Tch_. Longer than you." _Yup. He'll be fine._

"He hasn't killed you yet? That's disappointing." Del let her attention slide to the woman, listening to the roof for any signs of a movement. "Damian, if you wish to absolve your treachery, get rid of her. We have no use for weakness in our world."

At that the girl closed her eyes, so sure she would feel her brother turn on her, but the sleet just continued to tap on her exposed arm. The sword slipped from her fingers in a clatter. It was just the blood she wanted, as if the three bodies the child had left weren't proof enough of what he could do. That's all she was going to ever want from him. It was all she was going to want _for _him. Throwing out a fist full of smoke bombs, the girl grabbed him by the cape, dragging him to the edge under the guise of the thick black plumes.

"TRAITOR!"

The word seemed to drown out the voice of the city, the sound was enough to make them hesitate, it gave Talia enough time to come bolting toward them through the smoke. It was just a second or two, but that's all it takes to push a ten year old child off a building.

Del didn't hesitate, she jumped, the wind howling in her ears so loud, she couldn't even hear the hiss of her own grappling gun. Fist her hand around Damian's wrist, the pair slammed into the building, dangling together by grip alone. _If…if I can get to that ledge, I can pull him up._

"Whatever you do, don't let go! You understand me?! Don't let go!"

"NO! I just feel like falling to my death! Of course not you-"

The word idiot just kind of stuck in his mouth when she released herself from her harness, forcing them to fall once again, until the girl hit the ledge just a couple stories below them, leaving the boy dangling by her arm.

The second her body collided with the concrete, Del wasn't sure she could breathe. Surely something inside her had snapped, but the adrenaline was running a little too high for her to care. Below the city carried on, oblivious to the precarious situation just above the street. Forcing herself to gasp, the girl worked on pulling up the boy's dead weight, feeling her head shake as the blood hummed through her veins. Her father was yammering in her ear, and yet she couldn't think past the sound of traffic. Traffic Damian's body would fall into if she didn't get him up here.

Just as the boy had enough leverage to pull himself up, the girl slid into a heap, forcing her chest to give her lungs enough room to breathe. God, something was definitely broken. A rib or two maybe?

"You could have gotten yourself killed! What the hell is wrong with you?! Why the hell would you do a thing like that?!" He cried, toeing her with his boot when she didn't even try to make a rebuttal. If she didn't look like a total mess, he would have liked to kick the crap out of her.

She just wheezed, lifted her hand to her mouth, and dabbed the blood away. "You mean…why would I risk my life…for you?" She thought to shake her head, but the whole motion was just disorienting. "For a kid…so smart…you can be…so…dense"

When she slumped over, Damian felt his stomach drop to his feet. Did he kill her?! "Hey! Wake up, Wake up you idiot! WAKE UP! Despite his shaking, her head just rolled. Did saving his life just cost her own? Before he even had a chance to check for a pulse he was swept up from behind.

* * *

_She's going to kill me._ But all thoughts of Bab's anger disappeared the second the glass window of the clock tower gave beneath his feet.

"Dick what the hell?!" But as he slid across the glass littered floor, with a body in his arms, all the words that were ready to come flying out of Barbra Gordon's mouth stuck in her throat.

"What the hell was that?" Sam wasn't sure what she expected as she worked herself down the stairs, a fresh mug in her hands. Maybe Barb trashed a monitor or something? But the second the girl spotted Batman pulling himself up from the ground, shaking off the glass as if it were nothing but glitter, the girl paused. Something was hanging in his arms. Straining to look the girl fought to keep her bare feet rooted on the stairs. But as Sam Cleary realized it was a body he was holding, the mug in her hands became a pile of porcelain on the floor. "Del!"


	18. Big Brother Dick Part 2

**A/N: **Here we go again. On a side note, I know that this story has some rough patches and such. I've been printing this out a chapter a time and giving it edits and rewrites. But I'll start adding them in once the entire draft has been posted, I'd like to see if you guys have any unanswered questions from the plot when it's complete. If so, then I can go back and adjust it accordingly as I edit. It's a manuscript that will probably end up in my desk drawer, but hey it's something to cut my teeth on for practice's sake. And no, I haven't forgotten about Alfred or his promise!

* * *

"She's _my _daughter!"

"Then fucking act like it!"

As the soft glow of shimmering lights seeped into my vision, I could feel my mind trying to slip into my memory as if it were wading into the water, trying to remind me slowly where I was. I didn't recognize this darkness, or the stiff gray couch I was curled up on. Gathering my bearings I could smell the light scent of cologne. A scent that wasn't too familiar with my fuzzy brain. Had I not recognized the black coat that strung over me like an impromptu blanket, I wouldn't have placed it with my father.

Wrapping it closer around me I buried my face into it, feeling my chest bow on the inhale of a memory, when the voices I knew began to bleed from the walls.

"Look at what you do. Look at how much your parents meant to you…do you think for a second you don't mean that much to _her_?"

My knees felt hard under my chin. I've heard them argue before, but never…never about me. Pressing my palms into my ears, I stared out the window, watching the lights below flicker. Red. Green. Red. Green. _Don't listen. Don't listen; you won't like it._

"Oh, Christmas Tree, Oh, Christmas Tree, your branches green delight us…" I couldn't even here my own shaky words over them.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see the elevator gape, letting Alfred pass through with his tower of brightly colored bags and tissue paper. The second he set his bags down, I could see his brow wrinkling as he stared toward the hall.

"That's none of your concern!"

"Like hell! She's my little sister."

"She isn't your sister."

"Would you listen to yourself? Are you that jealous? What? Am I supposed to let someone like Bird snatch her? Why the hell was he sniffing around anyway? He knows something, Bruce, what are you not telling me?!"

I closed my eyes, hoping the darkness would making it easier to forget where I was, but when a hand touched my chin, my eyes flew open on their own accord, taking in the old man who was sitting on his haunches in front of me. His weathered face creased with concern.

"You all right, Poppet?"

I think that was the only time he'd ever broken his protocol. Terms of endearment weren't really his style. Only when I nodded, did he rise to his feet. "I wish they'd stop." I whispered, as their voices tanked to a murmur I could no longer understand, and yet the tension was still as thick as it had been when I opened my eyes.

Patting me on the head, he slipped down the hall. I couldn't even hear his footsteps. "Bloody hell you two! Knock it off! It's Christmas Eve for heaven's sake!" Then his voice dropped so low, that there was nothing but the husk of a far off voice that my ears could trace.

Only by the hum of Christmas music below this place could I count the moments that passed. I can't say I didn't jump when a slamming door shook the quiet. Carefully I slid from the couch, peeking around to see who was emerging from the small dark corridor. The second Nightwing saw me wringing my small fingers as I blocked his path, all the angry lines that marred his face fell.

"H-hey, Kiddo."

I can still see him squeezing the back of his neck as his eyes fell on me, trying to make a smile that didn't quite come to life. Even when I ran to him and wrapped my arms around him, he seemed to hesitate. And the more he wavered, the harder I squeezed, as if I could feel him trying to slip away from me. But just as I thought my body would start to shake from how hard I was clinging to him, he crumbled, scooping me up as if I were nothing more than a bag of potatoes.

"You better stop fighting." I mumbled into his suit, letting the relief swallow me whole. "You'll end up with coal."

"Crap. I just got off the naughty list."

Wrapping my arms as far as I could around him, I could see the outline of my father's silhouette in the hall. "I'll put in a good word for you." I offered, pecking him on the cheek. "You're my brother after all." When he squeezed me, I wasn't sure I could breathe. As if he needed to hear the words as much as I needed to say them. I'll be honest - I wanted the shadow in the hall to hear them too.

"And that would be why you're the best kid ever." His words felt like a hum as he set me to my feet.

"See you in the morning?

"Yes, Ma'am." With that he kissed me on the top of my head, before slipping a small brown paper bag into my hands. I just stood there, watching him slip out to the patio and into the darkness, leaving me with a sulky Bruce Wayne.

* * *

If it hadn't been for the reverberating carols rising from the street, the silence would have been deafening. Even Alfred moved quietly, buzzing around like he wasn't up to a single thing. My father was the quietest of us all, leaning motionless against the glass, his pale blue eyes staring at the world as it rushed merrily along below us. If I didn't see his reflection blink, I would have been sure he wasn't alive at all.

"Dad?" I bit my cheek, chastising myself for the weakness that wormed its way into my voice. And yet, the man didn't even lift his head.

"Yes Del?" Such soft bitterness. My fingers curled into the worn paper bag.

"Are we—are we going back to the manor?" I asked, rubbing my thumbs on the tatty paper bag. Ducking my gaze I could see him lifting his head, his eyes searching the ceiling as his chest rose. "You and Alfred will, when it's dark enough." Right. I couldn't be seen. It wasn't safe.

"What about you?"

My father let his arms slide down to his sides, letting his gaze return to the city as it slowly began to glow one building at a time. "I'll be here tonight." I knew it wasn't the view he wasn't the skyscrapers or the stars he was looking for. Christmas Eve and my father didn't want to come home.

"But _Dad…" _My teeth dug into my lip the moment the words slipped out. I couldn't take back the droning plea, knowing full well that whining was one of those things that my father couldn't put up with with. It had the man turning toward me fast enough that I felt something in me begging to jump back. But I kept myself rooted to where I stood.

"But what? _What_ Del?" The words were enough to make Alfred's reflection pup up in the kitchen. I squeezed the buttery bag as tight as the paper would allow.

"Can't I say?" I whispered, trying to ignore the soreness that ached up my throat like a sob. I didn't want to cry. Not here. Not in front of him.

Bruce Wayne's shoulders seemed to sag as he breathed, as if he were trying to remind himself to curb his words. "Why? Why on earth would you want to stay here on Christmas Eve?" You know Christmas tree and all that stuff is at the Manor." Even I knew it was a struggle.

Behind me I could hear Alfred clearing his throat. "That's not entirely true…Sir."

"_Alfred_-"

"You're here." I said fisting my fingers so tight I could feel my own nails biting into my palm. His grim mouth seemed to drop a little just as I let my eyes settle on my hands. "I mean, I know they might need you, but you're here now." I think it was then I began to concede to the fact that Gotham would always come first.

I could hear my father's sigh dragging from his lungs. "Alfred…"

"Of course, Sir. Though I doubt we have a tree here."

"Why do we need a tree?" I asked, looking from the old man to my father's stoic face. "Have you guys not seen that big thing?" I pointed at the window, paying no mind to Alfred's soft shrug before he disappeared into the unexplored rooms.

Taking a deep breath I waded closer to the windows, easing myself on the floor. And even though the man beside me made no motion of any kind, I could feel him watching me. Pressing a hand to the glass, I wiped away the film the heat had created against the icy windows.

"Want to people watch with me?"

My words seemed to take him aback. "Don't look at me like that." I said opening the bag in my lap, filling the air with aroma of cinnamon and sugar. "Batman does it all the time."

"What?"

"Oh, sorry, I guess that's _surveillance_, huh?"

I could see his reflection giving up a ghost of a smile. "Not _all _the time." I tried not to let my lips break as the man toed off his shoes. Instead I popped a chestnut in my mouth, trying to pay no attention to him as he eased himself onto the floor, except to offer the bag to him.

I can't imagine what Alfred thought of us as we sat there, talking about the lives we imagined for unsuspecting souls below us while we popped chestnuts into our gobs. We even went so far as to bet nuts on who in the ice rink would crash and burn. But the old man seemed to just shake his head at us as he brought out a few small boxes from the darkness, shaking off the dust and years of memories. It was as if he knew there was one in the making. All he had to do…was let it happen.

"What are you looking for?" I could feel the cold air just inches from the glass, and yet only his soft whisper seemed to remind me that he was still there. The streets had lulled, the rink had emptied, and somehow…my father was still sitting beside me.

"The stars…" I whispered back, aware that my breath had all but fogged up the glass. But even from the tip of Wayne Tower, I could see nothing but heavy gray clouds and bright beams of light choking up the sky. "…but I don't think you can see them from here."

Only the stretch of my father's hand brought my eyes back down to the window. In silence his finger prints dotted the fog, letting the shimmer of Christmas lights pierce through. I could feel my lips pulling when his hand fell to his lap.

"The Big Dipper." I chimed, not hesitating to put my fingertips to the cold window as I connected the dots he had made. Mine however left such smaller imprints, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Little Dipper." He said, watching me as I made my last 'star' a little bigger than the rest.

"North Star."

"Polaris." He added with a gentle nod to my fat print. "Now let's see if I remember how this goes…"

Pressing my knees into the marble I scooted closer, watching him add lines to the drawings we had made on the window. "Ursa Major. And Ursa Minor. Large Bear…and-"

"Little Bear." I supplied, knowing full well there was a reason for the wispy smile that seemed to tug at the corner of his mouth. "Who taught you those?" I asked, finding a fresh piece of window to dot.

"My Dad." The words came softly, adding a new layer of mist on the glass.

"And you just taught me…" I added, bumping him with my shoulder. "So, what else do you know?"

Somewhere between Draco and Leo, I began to realize I couldn't feel my fingers. Standing in my father's shadow, I could see the sky we had all but mapped out on the windows. But in the marks I could see the yellow gleam of the Bat-signal breaking through the clouds. I grabbed his hand, feeling the icy touch of his fingertips as they gripped in return.

"Dad…" I don't know where he disappeared to, but the word seemed to peel him from his reverie with a blink.

"Yes Del?"

"They're calling for you…" I said, nodding to the light in the sky. His hand unwrapped mine and before I could even turn to look at him, he was making his way into another room. "Dad?" One would think the word had struck him with the way he steeled himself on the doorframe, titling an ear to the air for whatever I might say and yet everything that had welled up, every thought and every word that had been so ready to come from my mouth all but choked.

"See you in the morning?"

With the nod of a shadow I let Alfred beckon me away, making promises of sweet treats and sappy Christmas movies until I could toss my cookies on an overdose of cheer. I spent the remainder of the night sitting on the floor waiting to see the bat-signal fade from the night. I'm afraid I saw the back of my eyelids first.

* * *

"Oh, now, Miss Wayne…" But all the old butler could do was stand there, shaking his head at the silhouette of a the child's small body lying there in front of the window, a particular coat crumbled beneath her head. In the flash of lights cascading from the plaza he worked the sleeping girl off the floor, leaving the expensive thing right where it lay. In the midst of lifting the tiny heiress, the man was caught by the sight of his name etched there on the glass.

"Leo? Well now, Miss." He whispered, feeling the child's head come to lull against his shoulder. "If it's a lion you need, a lion I shall be." Staring at the map pressed there in the fog of the windows, it only filled the man with a feeling that could only be bitter-sweet. After all, his name was not the only one there stamped out in her small finger prints. There was an arrow pointing to the fattest star on little dipper with 'Dick' written beside it.

Juggling her weight in his arms he simpered at the name, realizing she had added her own beneath Ursa Minor in its entirety. And there beneath Ursa Major was a three letter word for Bruce filled with the small loops of her thumbprints. Perhaps she stood some kind of chance of pulling her reserved father from the depths of his splintered mind, even if it were for mere moments. Toting her off into the darkness it dawned on him that perhaps moments were all the child would get but with luck, Dick would show her how to survive on those alone.

* * *

"Alfred… "

Alfred Pennyworth clutched the door knob, trying to brace himself when the inquisitive voice reached his ears. Twisting his gray head around he pressed a finger to his lips as he pulled the door closed. "What have I told you two about that sneaking around?" He chided, shaking his head as the caped crusader pulled the cowl from his face. Beyond him, he could make out the shape of Dick's lanky shadow as he stared up at the window, his hands pressed into his back. They smelled of ash and gunpowder, no doubt yet another eventful night. But on closer inspection his old eyes saw nothing but minor scrapes and scratches. Good. He had other things to do. He didn't smirk at the man when he shook his head, but rather watched him as he eased by.

"I put her in your bed I'll have you know. Santa was using this place as his hiding spot this year, threw a rather large kink in his plans to know the child was staying here." He said, watching the man pause as he pushed the door open. Batman thought of everything…except that.

"Its fine, Alfred." As if he'd sleep. Maybe that would happen – in another life. In the faint firelight that cut through the darkness, he could see the soft tendrils of her untangled braids falling over her small face like a curtain, small fingers twitching into fists in her sleep. A part of the father lingering the doorway was urging him to move forward. To put her drooping head back on a pillow, and yet all Wayne could manage to do was shut the door without a sound.

"So you're Leo, huh? What? You guys get bored?"

"That would be the little Mistress's doing—with a little help from Master Bruce of course."

The man let his fingers uncurl from the doorknob, letting his curiosity pull his eyes to the window. Seeing that the child had tagged them there in the fog, the shaky letters seemed to pull him closer.

"I'm gonna head off, I'll drop by in the morning."

"Oh will you now?"

"Yeah, I have it on good authority that the squirt would like to have a _family_ breakfast."

"She didn't say anything to _me_."

"You're good, Al, just not as good as me. Even Santa needs help."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the gleam of Dick's teeth in one of his goofy smiles as he bent down to sweep his coat off the floor. "Go home, Dick."

"You're sticking around for the morning, _right_?"

Bruce stared at the long strands of hair he pulled from his coat, but knowing the young man's shadow was still lingering in the doorway he sighed. "If I say yes will you go home?"

"Sure, Boss."

"Then _yes_."

"Merry Christmas, Al. You too, you grump."

"Merry Christmas, now go."

With Dick's departure the penthouse grew quiet, filled with the soft hissing of the fire. Even the old man beside him was quiet, eyes staring up at the same window. "I think the young mistress would be lost without that boy."

"Good thing he's the North Star then…" Bruce murmured, his glove smudging the fog beside the three letter word she had left behind for him.

* * *

_We wish you a Merry Christmas. We wish you a Merry Christmas. We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Good tidings we bring to you and your kin…_

Christmas music? Oh, God. Wasn't it still November? The dim light didn't come easily, the moment her lashes pried themselves apart she was suddenly aware of everything. The touch of the cold metal table. The burn of salt in her nose and that ever hanging ache of her chest that persisted with every breath.

"Christmas music…the turkey hasn't even hit the table." The words felt brittle in her mouth, fragile as ash and just as dry. "Twisted people…"

"See? I told you guys she'd come around. All that crap you carry around and not one of you had smelling salts?"

_Barbra. _

It took the girl a moment, as she tried to grab her bearings, swinging her legs off the table; she tried to pull herself to sit up, more than aware of someone's cold hands keeping her steady. "Easy. One step at a time." Dick cautioned.

"The new Bat Girl." The girl let her eyes slide to the redhead in the wheelchair. The impromptu sister, the voice of reason when Dick was lacking in that department. Her predecessor-the original Bat Girl.

"It's about damn time." The woman said, smacking her on the knee.

"So…so you knew?"

"Oh, Dick and I have been tossing it around after he told me about your little arrangement." She said, pushing her chair back. "Of course you went out on your own behind our backs…"

"You would have told _him_."

Barbra tilted her head, pursing her lips. "We'll never know now, will we?"

"Speaking of _him_, I don't know what he did to this, but this shouldn't happen!"

The girl didn't know if she was too surprised to see Sam sitting there with her suit, or if her aching ribs just wouldn't let her lungs budge. "Sam…"

"Who the fuck else would it be? Mary Poppins doesn't fix this kind of shit." The girl's lips threatened to twist into a smile, and yet she could only feel a frown pulling on her face. She knew…but how much did she know?

"Uh…Sam… you didn't happen to turn off the link in the cowl did you?" When the girl just tilted her head, Del could feel her own cheeks warming. "He can probably hear you…"

"Wha-"

"What do you mean?" But even as Dick's words hit the air, she could see Barb making that face.

"He took over my communication link with her."

"And you didn't say anything? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well I-"

"I wouldn't have gotten through tonight without him." Del interjected. But as the words left her mouth the girl only felt the sting of honesty. What would have happened if he didn't walk her through the darker parts of the night? "I-I still have a lot to learn." Out of the corner of her eye she could see Dick's mouth falling open, but before anything could work its way out of his mouth, a pair of voices began to echo through the clock tower.

"Oh, shut it Drake!"

"No! Why didn't you tell anyone? You guys could have-"

"Leave him alone, Tim." Just before her, the girl could see the pair of shadows pausing at her low command.

"She's doing that for your benefit, not mine." _You're wrong. _But the words only hung around her head, not even willing to make the trek to her lips. Instead she could only sit there, willing her lungs to breathe as Tim moved closer, leaving the boy standing there at a window.

"You're alive."

"I think so." She whispered, hating every vowel that had to come out of her mouth. Oh, everything hurt. Talking, breathing-hell it hurt just to exist.

"You cracked a couple ribs." Barbra told her, resting her pixie chin in her hand. "These knuckleheads thought you had a heart attack." With that she pointed a finger at Dick. "You owe me a window!"

When the teen looked in Dick's direction he had his hand on his neck and his eyes to the floor, his cape swishing with the subtle movements. "Yeah…I said I was sorry didn't I?"

"Only like ten times! Jesus, Barb. Let it go. Batman breaks windows."

"And keeps stuff…" But Sam only held up her hand.

"I'm on a need to know basis, and I don't need to know!" She said quickly, not even sparing Del a glance as she capped off the split wires in the suit before her. "But that doesn't surprise me…" With that the girl swiveled in her stool. "You know what? It explains a hell of a lot."

Del wanted to shrug but the second her shoulders lifted to make the motion the girl couldn't stop herself from hissing. But as the girl forced herself upright once more, she could see Barbra jerking her head to the other room, without a word, Dick followed her, leaving the teens to stare.

"Those two…"

"You picked... up on that?"

Sam pushed her glasses back to the bridge of her nose. "Hell, how can you not?"

Fingers clinging into the table Del could feel the metal shake as Tim leaned against it. His eyes however weren't on the current Batman or the former Bat Girl. He was watching the boy climb the stairs to the top of the clock tower.

"That kid's a piece of work…"

With the satisfying ache of her teeth biting into her lip, she lifted her eyes watch the boy slip from her sight. "He is..." she offered sorely. "But you have no idea what he goes through." At the words her eyes slipped down to her arm and the layer of gauze that seemed to keep it intact. "I didn't know either…" she whispered, feeling the dimples of the fabric under the pads of her fingers. "Did he tell you what happened?"

But the young man beside her only sighed and shook his head. "He only said he had a run in with a group of assassins. And that you tried to help him."

Del could have rolled her eyes. If it didn't ache so badly she would have called Damian out. "I…see. So he didn't tell you that…his mother was among them? Or…that she shoved him off the roof?"

With only a wide eyed response from the pair of them, Del slid from the table, feeling her body cringe when Tim reached over to keep her from stumbling down to the floor. "That first step is the worst." He said, letting her go when she righted herself.

"Sam… Can you let _him_ know I'll…talk to him in a second?"

"Oh, hell no. Need to know basis remember? I'm just fixing this atrocity. I gave him permission to use my material. Not to butcher it." She hissed, swatting Tim out of her space when he scooped the mask off her table.

"That's been sitting next to me all this time?"

"Yup."

"Shit."

* * *

"Hey…" Staring into the darkness, there was a moment she thought the boy hadn't heard her; he was standing there in front of the window, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. He didn't even bother to look at her when she settled beside him. "You okay?"

"Better shape than you."

Del pressed her fingers into the fog her breath had made, letting the lights of the city bleed through.

"Physically yeah…but my mom didn't just try to kill me." She whispered, feeling the boy's eyes on her now.

"Oh? So now you're suddenly worried about my psyche?"

"It's not like that…I didn't know-"

"Oh please, do we really have to stress about how much you don't know? We'll be here all night." He sneered, turning away from the window. "Do yourself a favor, stop acting like you care, it makes you look foolish. You don't know the first thing about me."

"I know …you want their approval. You want it so bad that you've had to kill for it." The words came quickly as if doing so would keep the simple action from aching. But it stopped him. She couldn't hear the sound of his feet on the metal stairs.

"It doesn't last…does it?"

"I could have had it, but you took the choice away from me!"

It was enough to have her turning around. "You had the chance…and you didn't take it. You could have killed me…"

"So did you!"

"I had no intention of drawing on you. Then or ever."

"Why?! She would have seen! She would have seen that _I_ taught you! She would've-

"What? Let me live? Damian…I'm in your way. I stand between you and an empire that would look nice in their crown." The girl bit her lip as her voice echoed down the stairwell. "Which one of us is being foolish now?"

"Why the hell do you care?!"

"Because someone should! Because I'm you're sister and that's what family is _supposed_ to do."

"I don't _need_ you! "

"Right, so was I supposed to let you fall to your death? I take it you didn't _need_ me then." She said, sitting down on the step beside him, trying to keep her face from screwing with the pain. "Look, you and I may not always agree. Sometimes you're a self-righteous ass. And I'm always going to be a bossy bitch. But we _do_ have a few things in common."

"I doubt it."

"We're both competitive. Neither one of us knows when to quit. Stubbornness? We've got it in spades. We're both prideful. And we both strive for approval. I mean…look at us. Normal kids don't do this shit." She said gesturing to his suit. "Yeah, I've got my own reasons for doing it, but I know at the same time I'm hoping that he might take notice. This was the first time in all this time that I've ever come this close." The words tasted bitter on her tongue. But honesty was hardly ever sweet. Strange, their lives couldn't be more different and in the end they both craved the same things.

"You're close with father, don't patronize me."

"We understand each other is all. But that didn't happen overnight, that took years of tiptoeing and lots personal space. It's just every now and then…he'll let his guard down." _Or someone would shove us together. _Her thoughts were tangling with the soft tick of the clock when she realized the boy next to her had caught her simpering to herself.

"How the hell did you turn out like this?"

"Mom. Alfred. Barb. Dick. Definitely, Dick. Sprinkle in some of Dad and his moral compass…and you get a Del.

"Grayson…I should've known."

"It also helps if your favorite hero also turns out be your father."

"You didn't know?"

"No, not at first. He was just this crazy guy that Mom didn't mind that I idolized. Hell, I didn't even know I was a Wayne. Mr. Wayne was just someone my mom worked for that was nice to me. "

"Mother told me all that from day one. It was a part of the grooming process. I used to look him up on the internet." Damian's voice lowered to a lull. "I knew about you." He added, glancing at her with that stoic face. "Mother preferred not to mention you at all, of course. You didn't exist in her world."

Del couldn't help but rolled her eyes. "I would've been more surprised if she had." She muttered. "I'm the _other woman's_ child. She still that hung up on Dad?"

"_Beloved_." The word left the boy's lips in a scoff, unwittingly pulling his sister's mouth into a smirk.

"Indeed." With that she smacked the kid on the leg. "You're stuck with me. I'm stuck with you. "

"I can rectify that. I know a thousand ways to kill you."

The girl winced as she pulled herself up by the railing. "A thousand?" she asked easing herself down the stairs. "I only need one." Had she not looked over her shoulder she might have missed the flash of a smirk that crawled over the boy's face. "Look, I just wanted you to know that no matter what the stupid adults in your life do…I've got your back…even if you do irritate the fuck out of me."

"Great…all the easier for you to stab, right?"

But his sister only paused, staring up at him as she reached the floor, her lips pursing together. "You're the expert with the sharp pointy objects. You tell me, would it be?"

"_Tch_."

"That's what I thought." With that the teen turned away, leaving him stooped on the top step. "And Damian…Dad saw everything."

* * *

The tall towers glowed like beacons in the darkness beyond her reach as the traffic sped along so unaware of what had transpired just hours ago. And if they knew, perhaps they didn't care. "I could've ridden my bike home." Del muttered, blinking against the headlights of the oncoming traffic, knowing full well they wouldn't be on the highway much longer.

"I'm not saying you couldn't, more like you shouldn't. What? Don't trust Damian with your bike?"

The girl sniffed, watching her brother glance at her from his misty reflection. Beyond them the towers were waning, giving to trees and earth, soon she would be able to see nothing but shadows and the occasional headlight.

"It's not that…I trust him."

"Then what? We saved the kid and got the ransom back to boot." Feeling the push of his hand on her shoulder, Del pried her eyes from the window, catching the smile on Dick's face. "Hell, I'm even driving the Bat-mobile. Don't start getting all broody on my now! Damn, you and your old man _are_ alike."

Del felt her lips twitch, trying to pull into a smirk or some wisp of a smile, but in the glow of the dashboard, she could only feel the heaviness of a frown. "I almost couldn't pull it off."

"But you did."

"If I didn't have Dad in my ear telling me what to do…I-"

"He only told you what to do. He didn't make it happen. You did." At his words the girl seemed to sink into her seat, letting her eyes return to the window, despite there being nothing but darkness for the eye. "Did he tell you to jump after Damian?"

With a glance he could see her pale blue eyes blinking at him. "How did you-"

"I eavesdropped on your little chat, c'mon, Batman 101. Now answer my question."

"No." The word slipped from her mouth like a whisper. "I don't even know what he said to me—I just reacted."

Staring up at him she could see his lips winding into a smirk. "See? You're just raw, that's all."

With her lip now too raw to bite on, the girl wrung her fingers letting the silence settle between them. But Dick Grayson and Silence never seemed to coexist in the same space for too long. "So, about the little demon…"

"He wants approval so bad he's willing to kill for it." The girl shook her head. "Has killed for it." The words came out slowly as if they'd somehow taste less unpleasant. "And…she…she just shoved him off the roof like…it didn't matter. Like he didn't matter." The man beside her seemed to exhale, a sigh filled with so many unspoken words.

"I know she's crazy, but fuck…"

"Saw yourself in him, didn't you?"

"Yeah…"

"I had a moment like that once. There was some kid in the house the kept having nightmares."

"Dude, I highly doubt he and I will _ever_ be that close. He's just my brother." As strange as it sounded, Del knew it was true. Like him or hate him blood was blood, but the entire idea seemed amusing to the man next to her.

"_Just_ your brother? What the hell am I? Chopped liver?"

"You dork…" Del muttered, closing her eyes as the car cut through the falls that sealed the opening of the cave from the outside world. "You're still my Polaris." Her father and Alfred kept her safe, kept her sheltered But neither one guided her through this life quite like Richard Grayson.

* * *

He knew just how many steps it took to make it from the cave to the door of his daughter's wing. From the moment she arrived home she had been in a flurry of activity and before he could even get a word in she fled up the stairs with a stack of folders pressed into her chest.

Peering into the lamp lit office, he could see her leaning back in her chair, screwing her face into a cup of tea that must have gone cold. The stack he had seen her with earlier was broken into neat piles. Jax noticed him first, dragging Del's attention away from the cove of monitors with the sound of his lazy barking. The dog didn't even try to get off the floor.

"Why not just make a copy from the bat-computer?"

"Helps commit it to memory if I put it in by hand." She said softly, twisting her chair toward the door. "Talked to Damian yet?"

"Yes. You know-"

But with the thud of her cup, she held up her hand. "I don't care. He did what he had to. What did you expect him to do? Lay down and die?"

"That's not-"

"And _don't even_ try to chastise me. I did the right thing."

"Will you shut your mouth for two seconds?!" At the sound of his echoing voice, she sunk in her chair. "Jesus, you and your mother…" He muttered crossing the threshold while there was still some silence.

"She used to do that when she was fired about something. There was no way to get a word in." Looking at his daughter now, she had her hands fisted in front of her mouth as she leaned on her elbows. She was watching him carefully as he eased himself into a chair across from her. How had she learned to mirror him so well?

"I made the mistake of asking her 'Are you done yet?' She let me have it." The girl let her hands fall, shaking her head as if she could shake off the pulling corners of her mouth. "Yes, you did do the right thing." Reaching across the desk he lifted her chin. "Maybe not the way I would have done it…but I wouldn't expect anything less from you."

With her chin resting on the pads of her father's fingers, Del could only blink up at the man, unsure of what to do with his offhanded praise. "I still…I still have a ways to go." She murmured, leaning back when his hand fell away.

"My first few times out there didn't go perfectly either… that's rare if you haven't noticed." At that the girl smirked at his gauze capped head.

"No kidding. How's the head?"

"Hurts, but I'll live. How's the arm and the ribs?"

"Can't feel the arm, I'm sure I'll feel it tomorrow. Cracked ribs suck." But as she answered it began to occur to her that her father didn't come here to compare injuries. "What's on your mind, Dad?" The words only made him lift his brow.

"I have a couple of things to talk to you about."

_Uh oh. _"Okay…"

"First…the Devereux family is in town."

Her grandmother's family? Del could feel her face falling slack. To be honest she knew little of them, say from the fact that they hailed Charleston, and were as polished as a silver spoon could possibly be. Oh from the bits she collected from her mother and even Alfred over the years she had a clue of what kind of people they were. Come to think of it, she needed to ask Alfred how _he_ knew so much about her mother's estranged family.

Her grandmother had been cut off from the family after she married Noah Larson, a rough cut wanderer from Gotham that worked for the family as a hand. As the family predicted, the marriage hit rock bottom, forcing her grandmother and her mother to rely on the only family she had ever known. And while the matriarch took in her daughter and granddaughter, the rest of the family was far from kind.

"Yay?" Del squeaked, ignoring her father's frown. "Oh, come on Dad, the only peep I've ever heard from any of them... _ever_\- is the occasional Christmas card."

"That's partly my fault."

"Yeah well, I don't have much memory of them before you, so...yeah. Doubt it."

"Anyway…you're great-grandmother would like to see you."

"Shocker."

"So I invited Lady Devereux to your birthday party."

"Lady? Party? Whoa! Time out!" Del cried, tapping her palm on her nails. "What party? No way. No thank you. Nuh-uh!"

"Del…it's your sweet sixteen."

"So!"

"So, in true Wayne fashion-"

"I hate you right now."

"We're going to make a big hoopla about it-"

"But-"

"-as expected."

The teen pressed her head into her folded arms, filling the room with the sound of a groan. "Uhh…_Dad_."

"I thought girls loved that sort of thing."

No sooner had the words left his lips did she raise her head, narrowing her eyes at him. "I'm not most girls. I like sharp objects, beating up bad guys, and running around the city dressed up as a bat. How do I fall into the _normal_ category?!"

"It's a masquerade thing…so one out of three."

"How do you do it? How do you compartmentalize your life like this?! And how the hell is Gigi a lady?" She cried, noticing Alfred's shadow looming just in the doorway.

"Practice. And she married a titled same-namer…what ten years ago?"

"Isn't she 96 or something? That's not weird or anything..."

"97."

"I hate to interrupt, Master Bruce, but Miss Jet is here to see you."

At the news the teen simply flopped back into her chair. Oh, this night just kept getting better. Forcing herself up, she snapped up Jax's leash. "On that note, I'm taking Jax for a walk. He needs to stretch."

"Miss Wayne, you do realize what hour it is-"

"Yeah. Did you ask _her_ that?" Del whispered, slipping out into the hall with a dazing dog in tow. "I'm just going around the property line."

* * *

Del found nothing amusing about running into her father's girlfriend in the wee hours of the morning. Just as the girl and her dog made it to the grand staircase, she met the redhead midway. "Delilah."

"Jet."

"Is that how you greet dignitaries?" The silky words forced the teen to pause right there on the stairs. That's right; the woman ran a small country now. A model turned president?

"Oh, I forgot the kind of women who creep their way up to a man at 3 in the morning were considered dignified. My bad."

"Miss Wayne!"

At the sound of Alfred's scolding voice, the girl fled down the stairs without so much as a glance back. Oh, she could only imagine the kind of scornful look that would be on Jezebel Jet's lovely face now. If it didn't hurt so bad, maybe she would have laughed, but she only settled for a smile as the pair swooped through the kitchen and into the darkness.

* * *

The sky was slowly churning to a deep inky black now that the clouds were all but spent, leaving a layer of sleet on the ground. It was enough to leave tracks but nothing more. With a cup of soup in one hand, and Jax's leash dangling in the other, the pair simply meandered around the property. The dog didn't seem to mind stopping to let his mistress peer up at the sky. Just through a hole in the layer of clouds, the stars seemed to peek through ever so shyly.

She had her head tilted back, her eyes trained on the sky, paying no mind to the wind as it tugged on her scarf, or twisted the small wisps of hair that had fallen from her braided up do. He was just beginning to like the look of wonder seemed to work its way across her face, but with a deep breath he reminded himself what he was there to do.

The dog at her side noticed him first, warning him with a snarling growl, but of course it was already too late. He was close enough. The gun came easily from its holster, and before she could even turn around, the barrel was pressed into the back of her head. She went completely still.

"Call off your dog."

"Jason?"

Her breath shuddered into the air as white and thick as a cloud, like the steam that was rolling off the cup in her hand. Even in this light he could see her dark lashes holding her eyes closed as the hammer clicked in her ear. It was ready to fire. "Down Jax…"

The dog obeyed, but his snarling continued to catch in the wind. "I'm supposed to kill you." He whispered, watching her shrug as his breath touched her ear. "They're starting to wonder why I haven't done it yet." Reaching over her, he relieved her hand of the warm cup, lest she get any ideas about throwing it in his face.

"Because you suck as an assassin. Couldn't kill Dad so now they send you after me?" Del lurched forward when the barrel jabbed her in the back of the head.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

The words forced her to turn on her heel, aware he had lifted the gun in a striker's pose, but getting her ungloved hands in front of her first she shoved him, fisting her hand on the leash as the dog attempted to lunge forward. No. Not yet. She wanted answers first. "What do I mean? Don't fucking insult me!" she cried, too aware of the echo her hand made as it came down on his cheek. "You kicked him off a building! He could have died you son of a bitch!"

"Whoa! I never-."

"Like hell! I saw you with my own eyes! WHY?! WHY THE FUCK-"

"What building?!"

_That's it! _The second the leash drooped from her hand, the Doberman shot forward, giving the teen the opening to rip the gun away from Jason as he tried to beat the dog on the head with the firearm. He hit the ground, and before Del could let her next breath out, he had the dog motionless on the ground. Be damned if he wasn't still growling. But the second Jason looked up he found himself looking down the barrel of a gun. Well shit. Covered in soup and sleet, he held up his empty hands. "Come on, you think that's the only gun I've got?"

"I know it's not."

"I don't know what you think you saw-"

"I know what I saw! Don't patronize me!" But Jason didn't seem to react, or at least not the way she wanted. He simply pulled another gun from his coat.

"Where? Where did this happen? I used the tunnels all the way to China Town! I never saw Bats! Come on, that would be low, even for me! Now call off your dog before I shoot it."

"Jax…stay." _Oh, God. Why am I doing this? I should be filling his knees with rounds!" _But no matter how she tried to will her fingers to move for the trigger, they wouldn't budge. She simply watched Jason untangle himself from Jax.

"He bit me."

"No shit."

Suddenly Jason had his hand on the barrel and was forcing the gun down. "Give me the gun, Del. You don't want to fire it any more than I want you to." He was right. Sure she knew how to take a gun apart and put it back together. She even knew how to make sure the safety was off, but had she ever fired a gun before? No…never. The piece slid from her fingers and disappeared into the back of his jeans.

For a moment nothing came from either of them except the white puffs of their breath as they slid out into the air. "Where? Where did this happen?"

"North of the shipyards."

"I want you to show me. _Now_."


	19. Confessions

**A/N:** Jason chapter. F-bombs aplenty.

* * *

_Monsters don't exist. _Thirteen steps. That's all that separated me from the light that bled from under my mother's door. I don't recall what had made me believe that something was lurking just beneath my bed; I just remember making a break for it, praying that when I burst through that door, the light would banish anything that stalked me.

My lungs were so full that it made my chest ache, I wanted to call out to her, and yet all I could manage to do was crash through her bedroom door and sink to my knees. My t-shirt clad mother whirled on her heel. "Del? Honey, what's wrong?"

I could only watch her through a tear soaked blur as she pulled the French doors to the backyard ajar. "Mama…it's there. It's under my bed!" The air came rushing out of me, causing my lungs to shudder and grasp at the air; it only summoned my mother closer, marking the carpet with the prints of her bare feet.

"Oh, Sweetheart." I was wrapped in her arms from the second she crouched in front of me. "Maybe we shouldn't be watching scary movies before bed." Pressed into her I could feel flutter of her voice, soft and sort of trembling with a laugh. I wanted to yell at her for laughing at me. But with tears tickling my cheeks I could only press my face into her shirt.

"I want Jethro! He'd make it go away." My mother felt as though she was crumbling around me. Jethro was my mother's dog. A dog that had once belonged to a grandfather I'd never met. But he was already growing gray by the time I had entered this world. And at this age…all I understood was that he was never coming back.

"I'm sure he would." Her voice was thick in my ear, as if she was trying to swallow a sudden knot away. I had been unscathed without the old creature these last few months. My mother…I think that was another story entirely. "Now deep breath." At her command, my lungs finally inhaled, sucking up the air greedily until I thought they would pop like a pair of balloons.

"Can you check? Please? Please Mama?"

My mother's hands might have been circling my back, but her gaze had flickered to the still cracked door. Only my croaking words seemed to summon her back to me. I half expected her to let me crawl in bed with her like she had done so many times before. But my mother didn't offer, she simply rose to her feet and went to her desk, her lip sinking between her teeth as she dug into one of the cavernous drawers.

I remember peering into the backyard, wondering just what it was my mother was looking at, but just as my eyes tried to make sense of the shapes, my mother unearthed a flashlight and something made of black and yellow fabric. I recognized the shape that was held together by her neat stitches. The stuffed thing even had bat ears and a cape.

With Batman in the crook of my arm and my hand wrapped in my mother's cool fingers she steered me back into the pitch black hall, I could only watch her shadow peer over her shoulder as she pulled her own bedroom door to a crack, letting that sliver of light guide us all the way to my bedroom.

Back in the dark space that I knew so well, I watched my mother bend down by the bed. "Hmm…I see a few rabid dust bunnies." With a pat of her hand on the rug, I worked myself to my knees preparing myself for the worst…if the worst could be broken down to a few Legos a missing sock and miscellaneous Barbie shoes. "What do you think?"

"I don't see anything." I whispered, feeling my face flush as my mother frowned at the stuff under my bed.

"I don't think anything would _want_ to be under there." My mother said, staggering to her feet. With her words still hanging in the air she held the flashlight out to me. "I think you and Bats can check out the closet."

As I stared at the closet, I could feel my fingers fisting around the metal body of the flashlight and yet I couldn't move from my spot on the rug. "But-but what if-"

"I'm not going anywhere."

With Batman still hanging in my arm, my fingers hesitated on the cold knob. What if something _was_ in there? What if it came out? What would I do then? It's not like I had a big ol' dog to chase things away anymore.

"It's okay."

At her words I ripped the door open,shutting my eyes as I braced myself for whatever might come shooting out. But nothing touched me. Blinking I could only stare at the circle of light that had reached the back of my closet. Nothing hung in there but my sweaters and coats. The usual suspects. "There's…nothing." I mumbled, closing the door as slowly as I could, as if I were waiting to see the hangers wriggle in the small sliver of light. Nothing happened.

"So, anything suspicious?"

I shook my head as I clawed my way back into my bed, feeling the mattress sink under my mother's weight. "Monsters don't exist." The words had me brimming with relief by the time I had burrowed back in to my warm bed. "Your imagination was just playing tricks on you, Honey, that's all." Mama added, the tips of her fingers gently brushing the hair from my face. "I love you more than what?"

"_All_ the stars."

With a kiss on my forehead she left me in the dark. "You want to keep the flashlight?" She asked, her green eyes looking glossy and black in the dimness of the hall. I could only press the new doll tighter into my chest. It might look like a mini Batman, but it smelled like her.

"I've got Batman now. I think…I think I'll be okay."

Trading blow kisses, my mother closed the door behind her, leaving me to settle with the shadows that stretched out across my walls. _Monsters don't exist_. Somewhere beyond the soft sound of my mother's whispers, the darkness took me completely. It wasn't a lie…but it certainly wasn't the truth.

_Monsters don't exist_. It eased my mind all those years ago…but now? Now I know better. And it's more terrifying than anything I feared as a child. We've taught ourselves to fear the creatures born of our imaginations. But what about the things that crawl out of the darkest part of a human soul? Are we just giving ourselves false reassurance? Monsters exist—I've seen them.

* * *

This hazy light of manmade stars and towers was an unfamiliar one, as strange and unknown as the couch she found herself slouched on, but the girl steeled herself, trying to reel in her swimming head as she worked herself to her feet.

For a split second Del had almost fooled herself into thinking she had somehow ended up in the penthouse. Everything was straight lined and clean cut, but the space was too narrow. Mind still abuzz with the fringe of a headache, she staggered her way to the view, hoping to recognize something, but not even Wayne Tower rose up from the darkness.

"What? You're not walking around like you own the joint?"

The echo of Jason's voice had the girl lifting her head, watching him wander down a flight of metal stairs. Even in this faint light, she could make out every curve of muscle and every white line mark that a monster had left behind. Did he always have so many scars?

"It's what you Waynes normally do." He added with a tilt of his head. "Hey, my eyes are up here."

_WHAT?!_

The creep of a flush tickled its way up her neck and into her cheeks as she brought her eyes from the marred flesh up to a pair of eyes that were so dark they were hardly blue at all. "That's not-"

"Yeah, yeah."

Del could feel her fingers going numb as she pressed them against the glass, aware that the faint gleam around her had grown dim in his lanky shadow. "Think highly of yourself don't you? I wasn't-"

The words splintered into silence when her face was suddenly caught in one of his massive hands. "Tell that to this cute little blush you've got going on." He whispered, tilting her head in the light, his fingers cold on her face. "Face it cupcake, you were busted." No sooner had the touch of his breath left her cheek did she feel her nails biting into her palm. The moment she threw her fist, her face became squashed into the glass. She could feel his ragged palm against her fist while her other arm was caught by the weight of her own body. "You know curiosity killed the cat."

"I'm a bat." Maybe the words would have been more imposing if they weren't leaving spots of fog in their wake or for that matter if she wasn't awkwardly pinned to the window with his weight crushing down on her.

"Some bat…" With a shove she toppled to the floor, too busy making her lungs inflate with a painful gasp to catch herself completely. Okay, so he was still a major butthead.

"What's this?"

"You're _still_ an asshole-"

But as Del worked herself back up, only to find her bracelet dangling from his fingers, the words stuck there. "Jase, give it back!"

"_Give it back._" He teased, yanking it above her swiping fingers. But when the girl just stopped completely and stared at him with those blue damn eyes, it brought a ragged sigh from him. "Oh, Jesus, don't be a baby, Pipsqueak." With that he tossed the charm bracelet at her feet, reminding himself that his t-shirt was still fisted in his hand.

"There's some League of Assassins gear on the coffee table, and I took the liberty of stealing back your harness thing." He said, watching her reflection scramble for the bracelet as if it were precious or something. "I can't be seen with Baby-Bat." Hearing her snap up the items he simply pointed to the bathroom.

_What part of this was a good idea? _With her cheek held captive by her jaw, Del didn't dare utter another word. "I'm not on it, am I?" The question stopped her, forcing her to clasp down on the tiny charms until they were digging into her skin.

"No."

"I see, die and become an afterthought. I guess he turned you into an emotional flunky too-"

"Excuse me?! Dad thinks about you all the time! He never took on another Robin! Tonight was the first time in _years_-"

"Wasn't him…was it?" But her silence had all the answers he could ever need. "The original Boy Wonder. Figures." It was enough to make him turn toward her. "Hurry up. The sooner we do this, the sooner I can get you the fuck away from me."

* * *

The darkness had all but faded to a dusky gray, soon the sun would start to peak over the horizon, it didn't give much time to dally here, and yet, as Delilah stood there, peering up, she could only see the empty space of where a gargoyle should have been. Of course any remnants of the crumbled stature would have been scattered by now, swallowed by this aging city. Batman was growing older…and so was Gotham. Why else would it have come down so easily when they collided?

"Yo! Get the lead out of your ass!"

Jason's snapping voice forced her gaze from the empty pedestal, with a roll of her eyes she fired her grappling guns, and rocketed up the side of the building, pulling the anchors free with a backflip over the ledge of the roof.

It only earned her a look of disgust as she pulled herself from her crouch. "Dickhead teach you that?"

"No." Of course, that was only half accurate.

"The boyfriend then."

"He's _not_ my boyfriend!"

"Don't get your panties in a bunch. Start looking for things that don't belong."

_You're the one with who has their underwear in a wad_. Del could feel her teeth digging into her lip as she bit down on her words; instead she set her eyes on the broken pedestal. _Right here. _"He's a more helpful than you are." She blurted, crouching to get a closer look. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jason's head pop up, face twisted.

"Crime is down because of me. So you're fucking welcome. That kid has no business being Robin."

Rolling a piece of broken stone in her glove, the girl forced herself to take a deeper breath. "You're killing them, Jason."

"What? Are you going to tell me you cry over criminals now? As I recall, you came pretty close to bashing St. James's head in. Don't even go there with me." Feeling the bile rise in her throat, she let the piece of stone fall to her feet. Yes, she had almost crossed that line…it would have been so easy.

"It-"

"Does he deserve to live? Tell me, does the man who destroyed your mother deserve to live?!"

"NO!"

"Then shut the fuck up."

"Fuck you! _Yes_, I could've killed him! God knows I've _dreamed_ of killing him!" she cried, her voice all but swallowed by the sound of the clock tower as it bellowed over city. _One. Two. Three. Four. "_It won't bring her back! And it sure as shit wouldn't fix me!" Del could feel the blood rushing to her face as her voice echoed over the dying chimes. "I just- I don't want to know what kind of monster I have living inside me." The whisper clung into the air in frosty white clouds, proof that they existed no matter how softly spoken.

"Oh, so now anyone who kills is a monster?"

"No. Everyone has one. Only some people feed it to the point it consumes them entirely" She murmured, more than aware that he was watching her sweep the sleet away with her fingers. "Forget it." She whispered tilting her head as something in the creases of the tile caught her eye. _Clay?_

"What'cha got?"

"I'm not sure, I think its clay or something…you got a test tube?"

No sooner had the man handed her a vile, did he snatch the sample from her. "I'll take that."

"I've got better facilities." But the sample only disappeared into his coat.

"Like hell. Someone's using me as their scapegoat, I want to know who."

She didn't hear a sound, not at first. Her fingers were crawling through the air, tempted to pick his pocket, when his body jolted. It only took a split second to know the tacky spray that hit her in the face, glancing up she could see blood rupturing from the new hole in Jason's body, filling his shirt with wide red rings. She couldn't get his name past her lips before he dove on top of her.

Cheek mashed into the concrete, Del had no choice but to endure the aching fire around her lungs as she forced herself to breathe, forced herself to swallow gulps of air that smelled of blood, gunpowder and leather. "Didn't you suit up?!" But the cry was practically muffled by the sound of zipping bullets and the warm cloud of Jason's steady exhales.

"You aren't exactly bullet proof either." No. She was wearing someone else's skin, trapped under the body of a bleeding man and had no gear to speak of. _Oh, yeah, really thought this one through, Del!_ The chiding thought vanished the moment she felt a rain of plaster and stone. The bullets were chipping the ledge, any closer and they would be chipping something else.

Feeling a gun scrape up her back, the girl could feel her lungs collapsing, holding whatever breath she had left as tight as they could, and yet Jason seemed to be breathing easily. "Ears." Despite the warning, not even the flesh of her palms could protect her eardrums as the gun exploded just inches from her head. It plunged the entire world into a droning ring. Sure, she could feel Jason's words vibrating in his chest, but could her ears decipher it over the shrill screech in her ears? No. Even as Jason slid off of her and pushed her to the side it was like it was all happening in slow motion.

Ducking under the lip of the roof, Del rolled to her back as the world of sound began to work its way back to her. At a glance she could see a dark shape spiraling from the building across the street. Dead. She could hear the chaos mounting below in a bubble of horns and screams, but that never stopped Jason from returning fire. Had it not been for the flash of gunfire, she wouldn't know there were two left.

Beside her Jason cursed as he rolled to his back, fingers furiously working a fresh magazine out of his pocket before jamming it home. _What can I do? I have to do something!_ Looking down at her harness she found her lips frowning, damn if it hadn't been picked clean. But what was weighing down her thigh? Oxygen?

The sound of metal scraping into the stone behind her head had her dragging her eyes away from the curious canister. Peering over she could see the gleam of a grappling hook. If something didn't happen fast, someone was going to make it across in a matter of seconds. With her heart pounding in hear ears, Del fumbled for the canister. There was a reason she didn't travel with oxygen tanks this large.

Rolling to her side, she snagged the gun from Jason, trying not to focus on the uncertainty that began to bubble up the moment the heavy weight was completely in her hands. She didn't have the time for it, not when she could hear someone skidding on the line. With the gun trembling in her hands, the girl heaved the tank toward them, lifted the gun and pulled the trigger. _Pop! Pop!_ **BANG!** The tank exploded into a giant plume of smoke.

"Fuck!" Del hit the roof with a thud, feeling the grooves of the concrete tiles scraping into her body as the shrapnel whistled over their heads. "Stupid kamikaze bat!" With his weight squashing her down, Jason pried the gun from her fingers as she weaseled her way out from under him. In the cover of smoke she found herself fisting her fingers into the collar of his shirt and coat, attempting to drag him toward the exit.

"COME ON!"

But despite her tugging, Jason Todd simply raised his gun and fired. The echo of the last round had barely begun to fade from the air when he scrambled to his feet, grabbing her by the back of her shirt and yanking her forward. "_You_ come on!"

Her feet had just made it to the ground when she heard the scream of sirens. The bubble of tension had finally burst, spilling chaos into the street in the form of three dead bodies. And all Jason was doing was shoving her at his bike. "Did you have to-"

"YES! You don't know these people, Del!" When he forced her arms around him, it took everything she had not to rip her arms away. "Hold on!" The second the bike rocketed forward, she almost forgot about the feel of his blood soaking through her sleeves. _Jesus, he's still bleeding._

"Jase, you need help! Alfred can help you!" She cried, half terrified that her voice would get lost in the sound of the bike and the battering wind as he cut through the streets, making a beeline for the highway.

"HELL NO! I'm not going there!"

"Jason!"

"NO!"

"Swallow your pride you dumb ass! You can bleed out this way!"

"You honestly think someone isn't watching that house?! I said NO!"

All the curses in the world fizzled at her lips_. Think, Del. He needs help, and he needs help now._ "Take the next exit!"

"Why?!"

"Just do it! I know where to go!"

* * *

"Oh, shit. No, Del. Not here."

"You haven't got a choice." Del hissed, half afraid her voice would wake the quiet street as the bike rolled into the sleet covered driveway. Working herself off the bike, she snagged one of his arms and slung it around her shoulder, allowing him to stagger his way up the walkway. _He's lost so much blood he can't even walk straight. _

Easing him onto the porch she made short work of fishing and extra key from inside the porch light.

"The bike, it can't-"

"Chill. This isn't my first rodeo. I know how to hide from people."

"Have you even been to a rodeo? You do know what they are, right?"

"Mom used to say it, so sue me." She grumbled helping him through the door. She let him go for a moment. Long enough to shut the door and disarm the alarm system. Long enough to inhale what was left of life that had been tucked under long white sheets. Long enough for the man to nearly stumble his way to the floor. "Oh, no you don't." she huffed, racing to catching him before he collapsed completely. Half holding him up, half dragging him, she counted the steps to the master bedroom. It was the only space that had a mattress big enough to accommodate a man his size.

"Did it have to be...here?" Jason croaked as she let him slink down on the edge. He could see Del's thin brown brows knitting together as she helped him out of the leather coat.

"Jase, where else could you go?" she asked, feeling the blood in his shirt squish under her fingers as she gave him a gentle nudge to lay back.

"Why do you call me that?" He mumbled, letting his eyes adjust to the light as it flooded the room. God he was so tired, he could have closed his eyes and napped right here had it not been for the noise Pipsqueak made. Oh, and the bullet holes, let's not forget those little bastards.

"I don't know…you didn't seem to mind before."

"I don't I guess." He hissed, feeling the cold touch of scissors skating across his chest. The shirt peeled from him like a saturated piece of skin.

"Jesus…" The soft word had his eyes moving from her down to his chest. Oh look. Three holes.

"It's not _that_ bad." He muttered, regretting the very idea of lifting his head. Hell even that simple action made the room sort of spin, so he just closed his eyes, listening to the sound of her footsteps on the carpet. "You're the only one who does…call me that I mean."

"Here, take these."

He could only stare at the little cup of pills dubiously. "And just what are _these_?" Just how much shit did she have squirreled away in this little house?

"Drugs."

The word had his lips cracking in a slow smile. "Smartass."

"Alfred cocktail. Help the blood clot and take the edge off the pain. I want slow the bleeding first. Then I'm going to hide the bike, and then we'll see what we can do about the bullets." She answered, shrugging at him when his dark blue eyes simply narrowed at her. But he relived her of the cup, and tossed his head back.

He could feel his brain trying to fall into a fuzzy state of sleep, and yet every time he felt the warm touch of a rag, his eyes would flick right back open. "Shirtless…again."

"Hey! I was _not_-"

"It's the scars…I know." He said with a sigh, watching her make another trip to the bathroom to wring the cloth out. Fuck, why did his tongue feel so loose? Why did he care for that matter? Strange, the more he tried to think about it, the more he realized…he didn't. There was not one single fuck to give. Maybe it had everything to do with this haze he was sinking into. The pills? Hell, maybe. Wait…still don't give a fuck.

"I'm gonna go hide the bike. Don't move."

"Where…where the fuck am I going to go? Some bat you are."

He could see her looming in the doorway, like a shadow on the edge of his vision. "I'm the bat who's going to save your ass."

"That makes one of you…" But was she still there? Was it her he was really talking to? Oh hell. He wasn't even sure anymore. He could only listen, trying to pin point her voice as it whispered from the hall.

"Alfred…I need your help. I need to remove a couple of bullets from someone's chest…I need you to walk me through it via video…please, I'll explain everything when I get back." Well, at least she had enough brains to ask for help. He was going to let a novice cut into him? Shit. Hold it, did he care? Nope.

From that moment, everything kind of blurred together, though there were times he was sure he could hear the voice of an old man he once knew. He'd pry his eyes open, only to find the Pipsqueak still hovering over him. Her eyes would meet his…and then…and then there was nothing, nothing but the sound of metal falling to the floor.

It was the feel of cold fingertips on his chest that made his eyes fly open. "Your hands are cold." He complained, watching her unravel the gauze with her long fingers.

"Sorry."

His hand felt like lead as he lifted it, even when he laid it on her resting fingers, pressing the small pads into the raised scar that traveled from his shoulder down his chest. "Crowbar."

The croaked word startled her, and even though she wanted to, she couldn't free her hand from his heavy touch. "I know." She knew everything; she knew that damn clown had beaten him within an inch of his life. She knew he had left Jason and his biological mother trapped in a building with a bomb. Batman came for them-but he came too late. "I did manage to break his nose a while back."

The words seemed to summon a chuckle from him, a deep throaty kind of sound that should've hurt. "I saw…in the paper. I framed that mother fucker."

"I did too. It's hanging in the bat-cave." She added, tilting her head at him as his laughter slowly became something short of a whimper.

"Why…why hasn't he killed him? Wasn't I—wasn't I enough?" The soft choking plea caught her off guard, and by the wide eyed look on his face, it caught him off guard the most.

"He doesn't kill them, Jason. Not for you—or me." she whispered, closing her eyes so she couldn't see the sheen of unshed tears glossing over his eyes. "He's come close; he's come close so many times. He wants to. But if he kills the Joker, it's like he's killing a part of himself. So much of him has already died…" She said, finally lifting her lashes. "A part of him died with his parents, he lost a part of himself with my mother, but you...you're death took the biggest piece yet."

Pulling her hand free, she smeared tear tracks on his face. "It's that monster, Jase. The second he takes a life it's going to consume him. I told you, we all have one...even him." She whispered, reminding herself she wasn't done wrapping him up. "Now if Karma were to push that fucking clown off of Mount Everest that'd be different."

"Jesus, you even talk like her." Jason rambled, feeling his muscles quiver under the touch of cold adhesive tape. God, why couldn't he just shut up? Why the fuck was his tongue just wagging away? Fuck! If it was this loose maybe it would just fall out!

"Who?"

Fucking shit! Did she have to look at him with that face? Don't say it, don't say it, you putz.

"Your mom." Aw, fuck.

But it only had Del tilting her head. "My mom? You…"

"Yeah, me and Alfred ended up getting the flu together. So here we were puking our fucking brains out." When he stopped to snort, Delilah only knitted her brows. One second crying, next laughing. Must be stoned. "And where's Bats and Nightwing you ask? Long fucking gone! They were off on another hemisphere. So what does the boss man do? He calls your mom…" The words slid from his mouth as Del propped her hands on her hips. "See! That! That's the kind of shit she'd do!"

"So he called my mom…" At that moment Delilah Wayne wanted nothing more than to get the loose lipped Jason Todd back on track, even if she had to reel him in a couple prodding words. This was her mother he was talking about!

"Yeah, she stayed with us for a week, dealing with the puke and the snot. She'd play the piano for Alfred when he was lucid, made us soup—which was bomb by the way."

"A southern woman for you." But her words only had Jason pointing at her.

"Hey, hey, shut your cake-hole, I'm telling the story. Anyway! She let me camp out on the couch and would watch movies with me…like Bruce used to do when he'd actually take the night off." He paid to mind to the girl who was all but frozen in place, staring at him as if he'd lost his senses completely. Finding his way back to his thoughts, Jason's lips pulled. "I liked your mom, she was good to me." he added, suddenly unsure about the softeness in his voice. He was capable of that? Say what? "I especially liked her because she wasn't afraid to tell Bruce off."

"Now, _that_ I do believe." Del said, as she began to collect all the bloody sheets and gauze. Would her father take a night off now? Hah. Not if he could help it.

"I was supposed to be there."

He could see her paused in the doorway with that red ball of garbage in her hands, staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. "She noticed some whack jobs poking around the house a couple weeks before…so we took turns with watch. It dragged on for a while. Nothing was happening, no one showed." God, why did his mouth feel like it was stuffed with cotton?

"It was my shift—and I blew it off. When Bats made it back and found me at home he reamed my ass with one of his 'I'm disappointed in you' lectures and stormed off." There was a soft rattle in the room, if he dared to look at her maybe he'd see her hands shaking. "He went straight there I guess…but it was too late, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." The word came out like a squeak and yet it fell on him like a ton of bricks.

"I should have been there. If I had done what I was supposed to…she'd still be alive." When Jason finally opened his lashes and forced himself to look toward the door, she was gone, the sound of her footsteps chasing her down the hall. "I'm sorry…" She didn't return right away. It gave him nothing to do but close his eyes and wish like hell he could take the words back.

* * *

"Hey."

The soft push of thin fingers on his shoulder jarred him from his dreamless sleep, waking him slowly letting him smell the scent of soap and shampoo before he could see her leaning over him in a set of clothes he was sure she wasn't wearing before.

"I want you to listen to me, Jason Todd." The words scraped their way out of her throat, and no matter what Del did she couldn't get the knot to vanish. "I don't blame you for my mom, you understand?" Of course it would be a lie if to say she didn't suddenly think about what her life would have been like. Maybe a small part of her would blame him, but she was trying like hell to uncurl its fingers her mind. "Mom wouldn't blame you. You were fourteen. You were just a kid."

"Oh, and you're an adult?" At his words her fingers started to recoil from him as her body jerked upright, but his thick hand reached out and grabbed her by the wrist, pressing the charms of her bracelet into her arm. "He recruits children. You start out partners, but if you're not careful you're just going to end up one of his broken toy soldiers."

Del tried to tug her arm away, but his fingers only gripped tighter. "At least he can't actually fire you, I mean, fuck, you're related."

"Jason..."

How could she do that? How could she be so gentle with him? Especially after his wagging tongue decided to tell her nearly everything? How the hell could she look at him with those pale blue eyes like he was breaking her heart? "Why the hell do you care so much?! I'm not your brother. You hardly knew me!"

"Because they cared about you in their own crazy way. Because you were a Robin who very well could have been my brother -"With a hard tug he pulled her closer, until her face was just mere inches from his with that wide eyed deer stare.

"I'm not your brother. Don't put me in the same boat as Dickhead." Feeling the indents of the charms on her wrist, he let his eyes fall to the small bracelet. "And why the hell am I not on here?" It floored him a little by how much he gave a shit about something so small. Why the fuck was it such a big deal? But then again, maybe a small part of him wanted to see proof that _someone_ at least thought of him after all this time.

"I just…I never found the right pieces for you." It had to be Pipsqueak.

"I kinda want to kiss you, and I have no idea why." That was okay-neither did the rest of his brain. But as he pulled her face closer, half expecting to feel her lips on his, she pressed her fingers to his mouth.

"_No way_, Stoney Baloney."

"I _am_ stoned." He uttered, his lips twitching against her fingers as he let his hands fall from her. That had to be why his brain was even half way okay with this idea. Never mind that she was kinda cute, if he liked bitchy socialites with no boobs to speak of. Or that she seemed to care about him. Eh, she had to be half insane. Then again she did run around this city dressed like a bat. Yep, half insane-just like the rest of them.

Flopping back, he could only lay there, watching her as she scooped his coat from the floor. The long tendrils of wavy brown hair were conveniently hiding whatever kind of face she might have been making as she pulled a gun from the inside pocket and set it on the nightstand beside him. "Just in case."

"First time you actually shot a gun…wasn't it?"

"That obvious?"

"One, you jerked the trigger. Two, you didn't hit your target on the first shot. Doesn't sound like that batsy perfection to me. But I'll at least give you props for making something blow up."

"A lot of good it did." She muttered, as her fingers combed the pockets. Maybe he should have stopped her, but after all of this what was the point?

"You don't understand. It was a test. I kill them-I'm still doing exactly as I should. They kill me? Oh, well, at least the problem was solved."

Her head popped up at his words. _Like Damian_. Remembering where her hand was she pulled out the first thing she found. It wasn't the small plastic tube she was looking for, but a softly bent envelope. The second she spotted the pink crayon she found her lips frowning. Sissy's letter.

"It fell out of your coat." He said easily, stretching his arms out before settling them under his head. What? No pillow in this place? "You know what she wants don't you?"

"Yes…" The word was half whisper half croak, but instead of looking up at him, she stuffed the letter in her own pocket. "And believe me, I will find out who's responsible…I promised."

"You Waynes and your promises."

"The same people who ripped her family from her took my mother, you bet your ass It's a promise I'm going to keep, even if it-"

"Kills you?" Silence. "Being dead isn't any fun, Pipsqueak." Not that he could actually remember what that was like.

"Jase…"

The man tore his eyes from the ceiling. "Hmm?"

"In the tunnels…Tim said you turned and ran the second you guys heard the shots…"

Oh? So it's a Tim? Tim's wearing my old patch now?"

_Geez, not this again_. A tiny part of her wanted to say, 'No, actually, that would be Damian', but of course her common sense told her not to pour gas on the fire. "Oh, get off it! Did you or didn't you?!"

"Well…yeah. I couldn't have you full of bullet holes. I still owed you…wait—still do. _Shit_." Now he _really_ owed her. Watching her pull the sample tube from his coat, he opened his mouth to protest when the sound of the front door opening cut through anything he might have had coming to his mouth.

"Miss Wayne?"

"Back here, Alfred." Del could see Jason's dark blue eyes widening as grimace rolled across his face.

"I hate you." He growled. He didn't want to see Alfred, not like this.

"He came to take me home." She said tilting her head to the blinking alarm clock. Didn't he realize it was pushing closer to five? "But I think he also brought you a change of clothes and breakfast." Jason's face went slack. _Oh, weren't expecting that were you? _ "If I leave you, are you going to be okay? I mean, there's electric, hot water and fresh towels, but are you going to be safe?"

"Yeah, you little turd. I'll be fine. Go before he comes back here." She was worried about his safety? him?! Wasn't she the one who was always trying to get herself killed? Or maybe it was just his current state she was worried about...eh, if there were more of Talia's men they would have popped up by now. Fuck He'd have to slink his way to Talia eventually. The thought made him mash his teeth together. Oh, the sooner he could cut those strings the better. Turd? Huh, was that the best he could come up with?

But Delilah was already slipping out into the hall. "Your bike is in the garage behind the boxes. I want my coat back by the way!"

"It's a fucking coat!" He howled, his voice chasing after her.

"Don't even go there with me; it's my favorite! And the boots! I want those back too!"

"Anything else, Your Highness?!"

"Yeah! Get some sleep you jerk! I'll come to collect soon enough." A Wayne with owed favors? Oh, he had no doubt that she would.

* * *

**Sometime in the wee hours of third shift...**

* * *

"Don't they know what hour it is?"

"Didn't think you would mind, it's a free trip out of your cell."

Ah, the man had a good point. With his shackles dragging across the scaffolding, Joker shuffled between the two armed nitwits. Just who wanted to see him at this hour? Not even Batsy would make a house call during a shift change. The thought had his lips twisting. It had to be someone with lots of money and a bit of fun in mind. Oh, he might enjoy this after all.

In the flicker yellow light of the visitation room, he found a strangely familiar redhead seated at the table. He kept his eyes on her; after all, she was better looking than the black clad individuals she had brought with her. Ninjas. Hah.

"Ooh, a costume party!"

The bombshell didn't even so much as smirk, she simply kicked out the empty metal chair closest to him, dismissing the guards with a wave of her fingers. "So, you want to go to a party, do you?" She asked, clouding the room with a smoky voice. Hot yes, deadly too, he knew that much. "Then I have something that might be interesting to you." The woman propped her chin on her hands, her emerald colored eyes watching every little move he made as he sank into the chair.

"Do tell."

With that the woman slung the paper at her elbow toward him. "Every party needs a little entertainment."

Letting his eyes glance at the latest copy of Gotham's gossip rag, he found a candid picture of a girl who was vaguely familiar. So familiar it made his nose itch. '**Sweet Sixteen on the horizon**! **Bash of year still to come!**' the headline cried.

"That's if you're interested of course." She added, curling her long fingers as she eyed her nails, but those eyes quickly fell back on him. "If not, you can continue to rot away in your cell."

The clown's lips curled, revealing the perfectly yellow teeth behind the wide winding smile. "Every birthday party needs a clown. So what do you have in mind, Toots?"


	20. Memories of You

**A/N**: Super late! But hey, it's super long. It's two chapters combined. I probably should've split it up, but after the long wait, I didn't want to hold out on ya'll either. I could not get this one written the way I wanted to save my butt. So I'm hoping I did it enough justice. There's a bit of everything in this one. Tim fans will be happy...I hope? And yes, the birthday part chapter is coming. A disaster? Oh...but of course. By the way, there's a poll on my profile, feel free to check it out, I'll leave it up until the end of this story. Chapter 30 should be the final, if not sooner. It depends on how it writes out.

* * *

I don't know…I don't know what pulled me up from my knees that day. It wasn't like I could feel anything, the cold had seen to that. And my heart? The last of its tears had all but frozen to my face. But what boy would admit that he cried? I'd just blame it on the snow and this bitterness that seemed to rattle the trees to their core.

Feeling the wind ruthlessly push against me, I braced myself, frowning as it plucked petals from the roses in my hand. Mom loved roses, at least that much I could remember. And me too, or at least I hoped she had. I hoped the faint memories of her in my head weren't the visons my own longing had shoved into my head in desperation.

As I watched petals twist and tumble down the hill, looking almost like blood in the snow, I saw her. A small ghost of a girl, her face and fingers as red and ragged as my own. One glance in my direction and I couldn't even move. It was like the cold had reached right into my chest and stole my breath. Or maybe my lungs forgot how to breathe. I _had_ to look away. _Janet Drake._ If the frozen ground was hard on my knees, I don't remember. I only remember the feel of that stone against my forehead, the feel of the falling snow touching my ears. _I wish you hadn't sent me away. I wish I had more to remember you with than just these fragments…I wish we had more of a chance. _But the words in my head only make my mouth ache. I should have been here with my father, but there was no telling when he would finally wake from his coma. Batman had managed to save my father from death. I should have been more grateful, but I was still alone.

"_I'm so lost Mama. Tell me what to do…" _ I knew those stinging words, I had said them myself a time or two hadn't I? Closing my eyes I could hear the snow whipping against the stones of this silent place. I could only imagine what my mother would do. If it was honest or not, I'll never know. I simply pressed my lips to that icy marble as my legs seemed to will themselves upright once more.

Boots sinking into the snow, I worked my way down the hill, so unsure of what I would say to this girl who was balled in front of a headstone, letting the snow coat her like a little match girl. Crouching, I could see the tremble of her body, from the cold…from sobbing, from both. At first when I reached out to her I was afraid she'd crumble into the snow like a broken statue. But when my fingers finally made contact, she looked up at me with those pale blue eyes. Eyes that were strangely familiar to me. "Are you okay?"

Lifting her arm she dabbed the shimmer of new tears off her face with her sleeve, sleeves that were too thin for this kind of chill. "I'm f-fine."

Before I could get another word out, my hands were busy peeling my coat off. "You're also turning blue." I said, watching that bottom lip of hers quiver. I imagine it was supposed to be a flushed pink, not a pale purplish-blue. "What are you doing out here?" I asked, letting the coat droop around her.

"Sitting with my mom…" The words came out as if they were scraping their way out of her. "…thank you." I should have told her she was welcome, and yet all I could do was crouch there. God, I knew the way that felt. The way the words just burned your throat, the way they made you hurt after you've held them in for so long. Spotting the name behind her, I gently reached up and brushed the snow away. _Paige Larson_. It wasn't a name I knew, but like _Janet Drake_, she was someone's mother—her mother.

"You have someone here too, don't you?" Was I that easy to read? Or could kind just read kind? At her words I found myself eyeing my mother's headstone, now all but covered in scattered rose petals, looking awfully lonely. "My mom is here too." I manage, though the words leave me softer than I anticipated, so I nod, as if it's not enough. "A few rows up the hill."

Snow blowing its way between us I could only watch her making hearts with her nearly frost bitten fingers. "Do you…live around here? You look kind of familiar." I say, but how she's familiar or why…I don't know. I just feel it. When she lifts her hand from the snow and points down into the valley, my brain doesn't know what to think. Beyond those bare trees are the peaks of Wayne Manor. It made no sense to me. You see, ever since my mother died and my father had ended up his coma, Bruce Wayne often visited me. I never thought he and my father were friends, but I knew they ran in the same circles. I think I was too glad of the company to ever really ask why he of all people went out of his way to visit me. Knowing what I know now it makes so much sense. But even so, he never mentioned he had a little girl—this little girl.

"You're…" My mind was already racing, but as a familiar voice cut through the air wielding an unfamiliar name, I froze there. What was this? What did it mean?

"Delilah!" The girl jumped to her feet in an instant, letting my coat pool around her. Thanking me, she darted off the other direction, hopping over tombstones and plagues while I just stood there like an idiot so unsure of what to do. I mean, Bruce was chasing after her. Do I call out to him? _No. _ My uncertain feet pulled me forward. Standing there on the hill I could see their shadows melded together. Just like I had done, Bruce removed his coat. Maybe I had picked up a few things from him along the way.

Still not sure of what to make of the display, I turned back to the audience of snowcapped headstones, spying a rose that had blown down the hill. Picking up my coat I slung it over my arm as I studied the unknown name once more. _Paige Larson_. _Mother. Friend. Missed. _I don't know why, but it made me smile just a little. "I know just how she feels." I murmur, picking the rose up at my feet before letting it settle in the heart that this 'Delilah' had created.

With every trek I made to the cemetery, I carried an extra flower for the stranger, wondering if I might see the little match girl haunting her mother's plot. But like most days that winter, I would find nothing but her boot prints in the snow. According to the rest of the world, there wasn't a little girl living at Wayne Manor. So was I simply following the tracks of a ghost? When I finally had the nerve to ask Bruce about her on one of his visits, he told me I was mistaken. And just like her, the prints began to disappear. I would have resigned her to my memory, to my own longing to have someone else share my pain. She was nothing more than a selfish act made up by my own misery—or so I thought until the flowers began to pop up on my mother's grave.

It would be years before I would see more of Delilah Wayne than just her flowers, even after I learned that the girl in the graveyard was more than my imagination. I assumed Bruce was only trying to protect her since he made no mention of her. And while a part of me begged to ask, the words would never come out, like they knew they were forbidden despite my curiousness.

* * *

I had scarcely grown accustomed to this life. I should have been grateful, grateful that my father had managed to return to me with a whole mind unlike so many who never wake at all. I was living in a house I could barely remember with a man I hardly knew. It was a new chapter in my life, new school, a new start. I was finally home! Isn't that what I always wanted? And still I found myself wishing for something familiar from the years before. Bruce slipped from life with the waking of my father. It made me feel like a traitor to miss the man's company. So I kept it all to myself as I tried to disappear into a new routine. I never thought my ghost would materialize in the halls of Gotham Prep.

"Have you seen the new girl yet?"

"Who hasn't, Fuck-tard?"

"Twat-waffle. So, c'mon, what's she like?"

"Not exactly smoking hot if you know what I mean, but she's cute. A little too innocent looking, but I could fix that."

The school was abuzz, fixated on the very thought of a new face having the misfortune of joining our snobby ranks. In a couple weeks whoever they were would be old news. "Yo, Drake! Are you trying out for the lacrosse team?" Just. Shoot. Me. Hearing the hinges on my locker squeak I cast my glance at the towheaded Pitman.

"Nope."

"What, you too good for it or something?"

"If I said 'yes' would it make you go away?"

I could hear his buddies cackling and clucking like chickens from behind him. Funny thing is, I couldn't really see beyond him. He's kind of well… _big_. But as his chuckle booms through the hall, I'm already wondering how loud of a thump he'd make when he hits the floor. "You're a funny one, Tim."

"I get that a lot." Uh, no. No I don't. Let's see…if I hit him with the locker door I wonder how funny he'd think I was then? Of course I'd have his three buddies to contend with. Two on one? Sure. Three? Here? Eh, there are too many people here. That could get way messy.

"Real. Fucking. Funny." His paw of a hand comes down on my shoulder with every word, and while I can feel him trying to leave his mark, I don't even flinch, I just continue to gather my books. It doesn't matter what kind of school you go to, there's always that one guy that has to assert himself as the big man on campus. Yeah, yeah. You're the king of the jungle, alpha of the pack etcetera, now shove the fuck off.

A floater like me wasn't really a threat to his social status, I knew that. It's not like my parents were A-list celebrities. It was my athletic aptitude that seemed to threaten him. If you're not with them, you're against them I guess. Whatever. We weren't what you would call friends. And I can't say I hated him. Hate's a strong word. I just wouldn't mind beating his face in.

"Pike, there she is…and she's staring this way." I was contemplating the pros and cons of getting myself suspended when the background noise made it to my ears. On the one hand I could lay him out right here and now. On the other, I'd be stuck at home with Dad. Yeah, how about no? Things were already awkward enough. But Pike's shadow finally left my locker taking the option off the table—that's probably a good thing—for him.

"Oh, hell…"

I was tempted to tune it out like all those times before, and yet something was _begging _me to turn around. Something _felt _familiar. The second I found those wide blue eyes staring at me from across the hall, my lungs forgot to breathe. We were motionless, separated by a river of bodies and backpacks. If there were words, neither one of us could summon them. Was it seconds that we stood there just staring at each other? Or minutes? I'm not totally sure. I remember the sound of the bell harassing me into action. The only thing I could do was nod to her. _So, we are real creatures then…_

As a group of girls pulled her down the hall in a cloud of giggles, I could see her delicate head bobbing back to me before she disappeared into the crowd. "Drake, Dude, what was that?" I could only shrug at the stunned Pittman. "Are you and her…"

"I don't even know her." I say, heaving my bag from the floor. At my words that cockeyed grin spread across Pike's face as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"In that case, you know what they say, finders keepers." I could only stare at him as he swaggered his way down the hall, so unsure why it bugged me. This wasn't new behavior of course. Pike would chase her and when the novelty wore off he'd find someone new to conquer. But this wasn't just anyone. This was my ghost of the graveyard. She was still the girl who left flowers for my mother. Okay, so maybe I knew why it bothered me.

"You don't know her either…"

She wasn't someone to be conquered.

* * *

If Timothy Drake's morning could be summed up into a handful of items, it would be the half empty thermos of bitter coffee, the dull point of his pencil, and the still blank pages of a sketchbook. It had always been easier for him to sketch out his projects, to put his overwhelmed mind elsewhere when sleep had been all but forbidden. But this morning, the page in front of him was still blank, as blank and bare as the sunless sky stretching out before him. They had actually saved a life. And yet as Tim sat there on that roof with the wind nibbling on his ears, he was sure he could still feel the weight of Max Collins' body lying in his arms. How many? How many lives did he have to change before he could close his eyes and not see that limp boy? How long until the sea no longer mimicked the sound of blood gurgling in the back of his throat?

With the weight of his head resting in his hands, Tim could barely see the faint glow of his phone through his fingers. _Dad…again. _He should've just reached right out and picked up the phone. He should've let the man know he was okay. And yet there he was, still as the statues that were perched around him. How do you let someone in after so long? This relationship between father and son had been tenuous and bitter at best, straining under the burden of unsaid things.

How could he tell him now? He knew about the incident with Max Collins, but what about his triumph? It felt nothing like a good deed probably should feel. How could he expect Jack Drake to fill this void in him? It was too large! Yes, maybe it did begin with his parents and their chosen absence from his life, but now that hole in him had grown so vast he was afraid that it would swallow up anyone and everyone in his path. How the hell could he ask the man to bridge _that_?

And why the fuck couldn't his father reach out to him when there was still hope? Now it just felt too late, the years had worn that small hole in his soul to a canyon, a canyon he had tried to fill with his obsessions over the years. Obsessions like Batman. Obsessions like Nightwing. And now here he was trying to find something that might make him forget it all completely. After all, the second the sun sank from the sky, he couldn't be Timothy Drake, he was Red Robin. And Red Robin didn't have time to worry about such trivial things. Right?

Tim could feel his own fingers raking down his face as the phone finally stopped trying to grab his attention, the pad on his knee still blank. Jesus, why couldn't his stupid brain just shut up?! Watching the first rays of light break across the sky, Tim could do nothing but sigh. Another sleepless night was all but spent…and here was another day where he had to be Tim Drake. Grabbing his thermos he could only frown at it…empty. The gulls only continued to dart through the paling sky, mocking him as they cried. Empty cup. Empty page. Three missed calls and a mountain of unread texts. This morning had the makings of a crappy one. Fun.

In the midst of collecting his things, a piercing shriek cut through wind. Before his breath could even shape it's self into a wispy cloud he was already leaping for the lower ledge. But as Tim worked himself to the open attic window he had used earlier that morning, something lithe and bright began to billow out in soft sweet notes.

"Really now, Miss."

Perching himself on the windowsill, he could see Delilah Wayne in that pale yellowing sunlight, her slander hand clutched to her chest as she laughed. It was the kind of sound Tim was sure he had never heard coming from her before. Alfred on the other hand wasn't amused by the cherry cheeked girl.

"I'm sorry..ow…I'm sorry." Laughter and cracked ribs weren't exactly a good mix. Perched there, he watched her tuck the wild strands of her hair behind her ear as she crouched down and opened the dust cloaked trunk in front of her. "I thought it was real." She said lifting out a tarantula.

The old man across the cavernous attic only seemed to roll his eyes. "But you have no fear of bats? Honestly, Child."

"Pennyworth?!"

"Oh, shit. Don't let him come up here!"

"You'll have to face him eventually, you know. He was quite cross to find you gone this morning." He told her as he made his way for the door. "But of course, not so cross that he didn't take Jax on his run without you."

Tim could only imagine the look on her face. "H-he took my dog with him? My dog? Are you pulling my leg?"

"Do I joke?" he asked, turning back only to swipe the Halloween decoration from the trunk.

"You sir are the embodiment of cheeky. And just what the hell are you going to do with that?!"

"If you hear another scream, I suppose you'll know then, won't you?"

"Don't go blaming it on me!" She cried as he slipped out the door. But as her eyes traveled up the perched shadow on the wall she twisted around to stare at him. "Oh. Morning."

"So, Batgirl is afraid of spiders." Tim teased as he hopped from the window, watching the dust float up into the air under his weight. He could see her eyes falling to the trunk in front of her, her fingers running over the delicate fabric that probably hadn't seen the sun in years. "It just startled me. End of story." She murmured, as she gently plucked old frames from the chest. With Tim's shadow looming just behind her she let the trunk open wide. "My grandmother's things."

Tim only picked up one of the old photos that were sitting at her side, aged moments of a life that happened long before their time. Strange even as he looked at the face of a then young Martha Wayne he could see bits of Delilah staring back at him. "She was one classy lady."

But as he set the frame back down on the floor, he could see the girl sitting there, a dress pulled halfway out of the trunk. "I meant to come up here and gather some photos while Damian was busy…and all I can seem to do is reminisce." She said softly, the dress falling into her lap. "When I was about five or six, I loved playing up here." When that soft smile lit up her face, Tim felt himself crouch down to the floor beside her, watching her fingers as she smoothed out the pleats of the skirt. "Alfred told me he was going to run errands and would be back. He said that my father was in his study. So I thought nothing of it until I tried to leave. The suit of armor by the door had fallen over." How could she smile like that? "And I couldn't get the door open. I remember yelling for Dad until I just couldn't yell anymore. So here I was, stuck in this attic freezing my ass off. It was so cold that the windows were all frozen shut. I guess when Alfred came home hours later and asked about my whereabouts he wasn't exactly thrilled that Dad had no clue where I was. When they finally found me I was curled up in a ball with all of my grandmother's clothes on top of me."

Del gently pulled the garment off her lap and laid it back in the trunk. "Dad felt really bad when I told him I had called for him until I had lost my voice, but hey, Grandma Wayne kept me warm. You would've thought I sucker punched him or something." Del said, working herself from her haunches. "That was the first and last time he ever told me he was sorry. He usually apologizes through gestures. Words are _not_ his strong suit."

As Tim watched her brush the dust from the top of the chest he could only wonder just how many times his father had apologized to him over these last couple years. Plenty. But had he really taken the time to listen? Would his brain allow him to?

"Gestures?" He asked, his own fingers gripping around the phone in his pocket as he followed her to the door.

"Yeah. Like—when I was ten, Dad and Dick totally missed Christmas. A couple nights later woke up to this puppy sitting on my chest just licking my face. Dad just sat there by my bed and the only thing he said was 'So, what do you think?' It's just what he does, and I let him get away with it."

As if summoned by her words, the puppy that was now a full grown Doberman came flying up the stairs for them, leaving a slur of angry words in his wake. But if the dog gave two shits about what Damian Wayne had to say, he wasn't showing it with that wide mouthed dog grin.

"You! Where the hell were you?!" Out of the corner of his eye Tim could see her empty hand reaching into the pocket of her coat as they paused on the stairs.

"That's a good question." If he didn't know any better he'd swear the girl was biting her cheek as they watched her father slide from the dim hall. He only paused long enough to lean into the banister.

"Out."

"At 3 am?"

"Miss Wayne, a letter has arrived for you."

At the sound of Alfred's voice the girl turned and hopped down the stairs nearly two at a time, the sound of a dog's prancing following her around the foyer. "Mm hm." The sound slipped out of her like a hum as she nearly snatched the envelope from Alfred's hand.

"Monkey see, monkey do, Master Bruce."

"I thought we'd gotten through that stage already."

"Bruce, she's a teenager that stage starts all over again. It's just…ten times worse."

At the sound of Jezebel Jet's voice, Del had to fight not to roll her eyes, instead she simply tore open the letter, trying to ignore the way the woman wrapped herself around her father. "It's from Sissy. Her dance troupe is opening for a play tonight."

"Sissy? Who-"

"A little girl from Del's origination, Page for Parents."

"Can I go?"

"No. We have a function tonight."

"But I snuck out at 3 am. Guess I'm grounded. Looks like I can't go." She said giving her best lamenting sigh. " Alfred, looks like it's just you and me again."

"Nice try. You're going."

"Dad!" Del cried yanking the flyer away from Damian's reaching hands. (Only just to turn around and hand it to him.)

"Del."

"Why can't I-"

"Because you snuck out at 3 am."

"But-"

"End of discussion."

Tim forced himself to suck in a breath as he watched Bruce and the model disappear back down the hall. The second they were out of sight, he could see the girl's fingers pulling a small tube from her pocket. With a subtle nod toward a certain door, it disappeared into Damian's fingers. Just what did she do while she was gone? It was enough to drag him all the way down the stairs. "Out of curiosity, if Alfred brought you back here…how did you leave? Your bike's still here."

But Del only shook her head as she took the brightly colored flyer out of Damian's hand. If she could feel the boy glowering at her, she made no move to show it. Now wasn't the time or the place. "Where's it at?" He asked, feeling her eyes on him as he took the liberty of peering over her shoulder.

"Gotham Theatre."

_We should go. _Wait…we? What was this _we_ business? Ugh, did his brain have to be this damn ridiculous? As a sigh hissed from her lips, Tim could only watch as she folded the flyer up into neat little squares. "This just sucks. Her aunt's moving her to Metropolis…" So it was the last time Sissy Collins would be in Gotham. Without thinking, Tim wrapped his fingers around the girl's wrist, stopping her from stuffing the paper into her pocket. She went absolutely sill.

"May I?"

Del opened her hand, allowing him to pluck up the paper. "Tim…" Her gaze flickered from his hand to his face. "You're vibrating." Ah, crap.

"It's probably my dad." He said, aware that she was watching the paper disappear into his pocket.

"If you can make it, I-"

"Oh, trust me, I will."

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"You really should answer that. If it was me you'd answer it, right?"

Timothy Drake paused there in the foyer, feeling the cold smack into him as he held the door open.

"Guess you won't know until you do." He said flashing a smirk as he slid outside.

"You're not as charming as you think you are, Bird Boy."

"Says the girl with a smile on her face." Before that face could twist or her hands could make a one fingered gesture, he shut the door, certain he could hear her calling him a jerk.

* * *

"What the hell is this?!"

"Jesus H. Christ, you ever, I don't know—knock?!" Del cried, hugging her robe closer around her as Damian burst through the door. _You're not walking around like you own the joint? That's what you Waynes normally do. _As the boy threw her backpack, all Delilah could hear was Jason in her head. It made the girl want to press her hands into her robe, as if it her fingers could suddenly feel his mouth there. Never mind that the gear he had given her was now spilled out across her bed.

"I don't know how you do things with them." She could feel the words edging up in volume as she yanked Damian from the door and slammed it shut. "Maybe you're used to being with a bunch of guys, I don't know, and I don't care, but you'll knock from now on."

The kid didn't even miss a beat he simply turned to the door and knocked on it, glowering as his sister put her hands on her hips. "Ass."

"I may be an ass, but I'm still an ass that's smarter than you. Now. What are _you_ doing with _that_?!"

"Playing dress up." Oh, little brother wasn't amused. "Okay…" the girl sighed as she disappeared into the danger zone that was her closet. "That's only half true. Jason gave it to me." She said simply, frowning at the next dress in the rack. "I have t-shirts that are longer than this…"

"Jason?! You were with Jason?!"

"Hey, Ninja Boy, keep it down." Del pushed by him to throw yet another dress on the pile that had begun to take up her bed. "His argument was uh…stimulating."

"Stimulating?" Oh, why so dubious?

"Like—a gun to the head stimulating. He's the one who was tasked with killing me, Damian, not you."

"And he hasn't…because-"

"Because I removed that chip. I don't know about you, but I'd like to keep my brain. I'd hate to have it scrambled by a bullet."

"Not that there's much there to scramble." He grunted, as he lifted a dress of her bed as if he were touching road kill. "So the sample—"

"I got it from the site of Dad's fall."

"Right, because Jason's so innocent. Don't be dumb, you and I both saw him there with our own eyes."

"What was it-the sample?"

"Are you even listening to me?!"

"Sample, Damian."

"Clay! It was nothing but clay." He snapped, watching her throw yet another dress onto the pile. By the look on her face, it wasn't what his sister wanted to hear. "You still think he could be innocent, don't you? He's playing you for a fool, and you're letting him!"

"I'm not letting that man do anything! But I have to go with my instincts, and they're telling me to trust him."

"What about me?! What about all that garbage about you having my back?! You said you trusted _me_! This is so unfair!" At the sound of his roar, Del all but froze her blue eyes wide. Had she heard him right? Did this really come out of him? Did he think she was choosing Jason over him?

"Damian, I-"

"I knew better than to believe you." He hissed at her wrenching the door open. What the boy didn't expect was for his sister to rush after him. To knock his feet out from under him and drag him back into the room despite all his kicking and flailing. Huh, when did she learn to do that?

"I _do_. I do trust you."

"Then why won't you trust me when I say-"

"Because it's your turn to trust me. Do I think Jason is _completely _innocent? Fuck no. But I have a feeling that he's being played—and so are we. Something bigger is happening here and we can't see the forest through the trees." She said rising to her feet as Damian's head lulled against the door. "I've gotten stronger because of you. Dad can't credit for that, and neither can Dick. I trust you, but I have to trust my instincts too. They've never led me astray." Okay, so they made her impulsive, got her in heaps of trouble, but hey at least they weren't wrong. That was a plus, right?

Damian only stared at her outstretched hand; this girl was such a pain in his ass. "Finally admitting I'm the superior brother?"

"Don't push it." She grumbled, yanking him back up to his feet. Truth was, she found herself learning from all of them. Her father had given her a foundation, he had taught her how to think ahead and on her feet. Dick had shown her compassion, gave her confidence. And Damian? The kid pushed her when everyone else was afraid she'd break under the pressure. He had shown her just what she could endure, just what she could do.

"Don't hide that from me." He said suddenly, pointing at the gear. "I want to know everything. If you trust me, if you trust me like you say…you'll tell me. If you betray me…I'll kill you."

"Sounds fair." Del said, watching the boy frown at the pile of clothes on her bed.

"You're _my_ sister; don't you have anything more _tasteful_?" He complained. What? Like she was going to hurt _his_ reputation? Oh, this child! Damian's brows knitted together as he picked up a piece of fabric only to let it fall. "Something with a little more class and a little less…ass. You may be a Wayne, but you're a girl; can't you show just a little decorum?"

"_Oh_, then why don't _you_ go, and I'll go on patrol instead."

"You have a better chance of seeing Hell."

"Too late, already there. More class less ass. Cute."

"So glad I amuse you."

"Class…Damian, you're a genius!"

"You're just now noticing?!" He snapped watching her rush from the bedroom like a maniac. "You're so dense it hurts to admit we're related." _Tch_. Why did he even bother? So this is what a sister was like. Oh, joy. Maybe he _should_ kill her.

* * *

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for patrol?"

At his father's words, Damian Wayne only glanced up from his spot on the floor as he leaned against one of the double doors to his sister's room. "Waiting on the diva. And by diva…I mean Grayson." He said dryly, pulling his hood further over his face. "I'd knock if I were you or she'll nag you to death. I'm sure there's less torturous ways to die." He added, listening to Bruce's knuckles echo through the hall.

"It's open!"

Stepping into the space, Bruce was sure he had walked into a warzone. Clothes were everywhere. He could see Dick sitting cross legged on her bed. At first he didn't see his daughter; he simply saw shoes and belts flying out of her closet.

"So…is that a yes?"

"Dick, my ribs are cracked, and my arm looks like it went through a meat grinder."

"So? That hasn't stopped you yet. It's not for a few months anyway. Besides, I already told them that you'd fill in."

"DICK!"

Dick's face seemed to light up as he unfolded his long legs. "That would be my cue to leave." He said lightly, ducking under a flying heel as he ambled for the door, leaving Bruce to shake his head.

"Please tell me you're somewhere close to being ready."

"You sprung this on _me_ remember? Don't you dare rush me." Del snipped, emerging from the closet with a pair of white pumps in her hand. "And I hope I heard right about the cocktail attire, because if not—I'm screwed."

The second Delilah had slipped into the white swing dress; her lungs seemed to sigh all on their own. No, there was no denying that that it hailed from the 1950's with its wide scalloped neckline that that was just a breath away from being off the shoulder, or the long flaring skirt with its gentle pleats. But it hugged her waist nicely, giving her plank of a body something of a figure. And while it was her grandmother's she did try to make it her own with a red belt she had dug up from the depths of her closet and the red bottoms of the white Louboutin's. But when Del spotted that sorrowful look working its way across her father's face, the relief she had felt was forgotten.

"You look fine." He said softly, watching her wring her pale fingers until they were red. "That was one of her favorites." Oh, God, he _did_ recognize it.

"Then you don't mind that I-"

"No...But something's missing."

Staring at the open door, the girl had to will herself to follow him, listening to the swish of the skirt in their silence. _He's not mad, but- _

"So what were you and Dick talking about?"

"One of the girls at the gym I pair with broke her ankle…"

"So you'll be able to compete?"

"Looks that way…" Why? Why did the silence between them have to seem so loud? Crossing through the threshold of the office the girl immediately moved closer to the mantle, staring up at painted gazes of her grandparents. _I hope you don't mind_. She mouthed, listening to her father's shoes scuff across the carpet as he kneeled at the safe behind the desk.

"Bruce if she doesn't get ready soon we'll be late!" _She? Right, she means you, Del._ The teen could feel her shoulders falling; it wasn't like she _wanted_ to go to this stupid party. Hell she didn't even know who or what it was for.

"Little does she know that I invented the term _fashionably late_." She heard her father say, as he lifted a small black box from the depths. "Here, try these." He said, handing the box to her when he staggered in her direction. With uncertain fingers the girl pried the top open, revealing the small drop earrings that were hiding inside. Rubies. "Another of your grandmother's favorites. She always said she made her best memories when she had them on."

Del could only stare at the jewels, fingers afraid to stretch out to them. Her father never broke out her grandmother's jewelry _just because_. She had worn the strand of pearls once, but thinking about it now, it seemed like something he had done just to soothe her fears. After all, that was the same day she had come face to face with St. James. So when her father plucked up the earrings and gently set them in her tender ears the girl couldn't breathe.

"Perfect." Oh, this new weight in her ears was a little more than terrifying. What if something happened to them? Oh, God. Please, please, please no. But as her father's fingers thumped her on the tip of her nose, the thoughts dissipated. He was just staring at her, face soft and thoughtful. She had learned just how to deal with a broody Bruce Wayne. But this? This was out of her element. Why was he looking at her like he had so much to say? And why the hell wouldn't he just come out and say it? Unsure of what to do, her eyes slipped down to her hands, aware that the tips of her fingers were turning a purplish-red under her own grip.

"You always look away from me." The words were soft and yet she could still catch the firmness in his voice, steady like the cool fingers that pulled her chin back up to his gaze. "Why is that? You don't do that to anyone else."

"I don't know what to say I guess."

Her words seemed to drag his lips into halfhearted smile. "I'm not good with words either." He murmured, holding out his arm for her. "What do you say we get this over with?" At least she wasn't the only one who wasn't exactly thrilled about all this. Letting her fingers curl into her father's arm she let him escort her to the door.

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

* * *

_Maybe I should've let Damian Kill me._ The thought had hit her once or twice as she leaned on the fringe of the drunken frenzy, taking up a spot on the wall that let her see the entire room. Every now and then, she'd hear Jet's bell like laugh cutting over the chatter and plumes of cigar smoke.

"Hmmm…the littlest Wayne is a wallflower. I never would have guessed."

Selina Kyle. Oh, she knew the woman who was leaning beside her with that short black hair and equally dark gown. "Drunken ass kissing just doesn't appeal to me." She said dryly, listening to the chatter hum in the room like a hive. Just what would Selina Kyle, AKA Catwoman want with the likes of her? Oh, she heard a tale or two about the woman's alter ego and that love-hate relationship she and the Bat seem to share. It's not like Del ever asked her father about the woman, yeah, like that wouldn't be an awkward conversation.

"Aww, Timmy, don't be like that." Prodded by a familiar whining voice, Delilah found Carlotta Van Helton's fingers wrapped in the lapels of Tim's jacket. What's he doing here? _I thought…I thought he was going to… _Tasting a bit of blood in her mouth her teeth set her lip free, the sharp ache breaking the thoughts into pieces.

"_Something_ seems to appeal to you."

"I didn't know you were a comedian, Miss Kyle."

"A girl has to call it like she sees it. You know…if you want something, you have to take it."

"I don't-"

"Oh, well, I guess you have him trained to come to you." Selina said lightly, tilting her head as Tim started to cross the room. "Kind of cute…like a puppy." With that the woman pulled herself from the wall. "Have fun, Wallflower." No sooner had the woman slipped right back into the crowd did Tim take up her spot along the wall.

"So…"

"So?"

"What do you say we blow this place?"

"What? You don't want to wait for Carlotta?"

"I was kind of hoping we could split before she noticed I was gone." He said, his fingers pulling a familiar piece of pink paper from his pocket. "There's still time." She was still staring at it when she felt his fingers grip around her wrist. _He didn't forget?_ With a yank he was pulling her across the fringe of the crowd. "We'll just 'Mick Jagger' it."

"What?"

By the tilt of his dark head she had the distinct impression that he was rolling his eyes. "You mean you're Bruce's daughter and you don't know?! You come in through the front door, and you schmooze your way out the back door. You just have to make sure no one actually sees you use the back door."

"Why, Timothy Drake, I believe you've done this before." She teased, as they weaved their way through the crowd, ducking around the intoxicated as they made a break for the nearest exit.

"Just a time or two…or twenty. Stick with me and you'll be slipping out of parties like a boss."

* * *

"Miss Wayne?! Miss Wayne!"

"Like a boss, huh?!" Del quipped, feeling her body lurch forward as the boy grabbed her hand and proceeded to pull her down the sidewalk with the paparazzi lighting up the sky behind her. The back door he had spoken of happened to be blocked by the parental unit, forcing them to hop out of a second story window right into a backyard with the owner's two oh, so precious dogs. Two slobbering things that were kind enough to chase them over the fence and right into the swarm of cameras that were camping out.

"Minor setbacks, Miss Popular."

With her shoes in one hand, Del could feel the pavement digging into her feet. If there was glass and debris she couldn't feel it over the drive to get away. "Oh, shut it, Drake." She snipped, feeling his hand missing from hers, as he began to rip his jacket off. Before she could even ask what the hell he was up to he dragged her into a lightless alleyway, pulled her down into a crouch and threw it over them.

"You can't be serious."

"Shhh…"

In the midst of listening for the sound of shoes colliding with the pavement, or for the sound of a familiar voices, Tim found himself taken by the soft sound of her exhales, more than aware that their own breath had made the almost too thick to breathe. Strangely enough if anything was going to suffocate him, it was going to scent of her. He would have died happily if it made him forget the stink of this city, a stench that was part ash, part rust and covered in that briny fog that enveloped Gotham like a like a blanket—or a body bag.

"I don't think I hear them anymore, do you?"

The feel of her breath tickling his cheek made the boy strain to listen, but when he heard nothing but the sound of garbage scrapping across the concrete he pulled the jacket away, letting it pool around her shoulders. "I think we're clear, but we'll have to take the long way around."

"Gotham Theatre is on the other side of town!" But Tim's broad shoulders only rose and fell.

"We'll just take the train." He murmured, watching her eyes widen as he pulled her to her feet.

"That'll be a first…"

"What? The train?"

But Delilah Wayne made no move to look at him, she simply continued to brush off her feet and slide them back into her shoes. Was she kidding? Oh, come on! She had to be kidding.

"Well, it's not like I've _never_ been on a train…" She supplied, feeling Tim's gaze weighing heavily on her. "I rode the bullet trains in France…"

"Hold up, you're telling me that you've lived in Gotham all your life and you've never-"

"Ironic right? My grandfather put the train in and I've never stepped foot on it." Del couldn't tell if it was a patron saint falling out of the boy's mouth or a curse. Snagging her hand he gently tugged her into the faint light that gleamed off the sidewalk.

"I say we fix that."

* * *

She didn't mind this. She didn't mind their shadows blending together as they walked side by side. She didn't mind the sound of her shoes echoing around them, or the strange lull that had taken hold of the street. She didn't even care that his hand was warm and clammy around hers, but it still made her wonder when he would realize that he was still holding her hand even though he wasn't guiding her anymore. Unsure of what to do she let her fingers rest there in his palm. Could he feel the scars on her hands? _Oh, my god, you're over thinking this, just chill. Chill! It's just Tim._ But then again…she had never held a boy's hand before. Sure, Dick held her hand plenty of times…but this?

"This is gonna sound stupid, but for a long time…I thought I made you up." At the sound of her words, Tim peeled his eyes away from the shadows they cast along the buildings. With her head tilted back it was if she were watching the steam billow up from the streets only to get lost in the gray sky over their heads. "When we first met…I mean." She said softly, her thin fingers reaching up to push loose strands of her hair behind her ear. "I used to go to the cemetery just to see if I could find you there. I'd find flowers and footprints nothing more." She couldn't tell him that he was the only child close to her age that she knew at the time. That just…felt pathetic.

"I was still in boarding school back then…I used to walk to the property line to see if I could see you, but then the gardener would chase me off. Or Alfred-I think he ran me off a time or two. I don't know if he remembers that. When I finally stopped, these flowers started showing up on my mom's grave." Perhaps they were both chasing ghosts. Feeling the strange curve of her hand still wrapped in his fingers Tim had to fight to shrug and not look down. He was sure she'd untangle her hand any moment. "I know you've been asked this a lot, but was your health really as bad as they said? I mean you run around on rooftops now. You beat up on Damian…"

"…hah, more like he beats up on me." She quipped softly. "Sometimes. I'm sure a lot of it could be chalked up to Dad being a little over protective."

"A little?"

"_Okay_, a lot. It's wonder I don't have Stockholm syndrome. He threatened to send me to boarding school once. It didn't fly. I had to beg him to let me go to school. I think I begged him for two years straight." If she didn't know any better, she'd swear Tim was smiling to himself. Okay, so she probably made it to class maybe three days out of the week and the school totally let her get away with it. No wonder all the other kids hated her. "Hey, I do my homework like everyone else and it's always on time." She said as if she could read his thoughts.

"I didn't say a word."

"You didn't have to. I don't throw my name around _that_ much do I?"

"Not really, but it's always implied. You're one of the most powerful people in that institution and you're not even an adult. I think everyone's just standing back waiting to see if you use your power for good or evil before they make their next move. And the fact that you don't really socialize with anyone-"

"Hey! I talk to Sam." She said defensively. "I just…can't relate to most of them. Dad always compartmentalizes his life. I can't do that. I can't pretend to be two different people."

"But you do. I don't know if you realize it, but you do." Taking another step, he felt her weight keeping him from moving forward as she stopped dead on the sidewalk, looking so lost.

"We discussed this before. At school you're detached and sharp; you've got these walls that are like a thousand feet high. Why do you think everyone calls you the 'Ice Woman' behind your back? You won't let anyone in that school get close to you, except for Sam." As his breath slipped out in soft opaque clouds he could see her shoulders slumping under the weight of his jacket or maybe it was his words. God damn it, he didn't want to hurt her feelings. Way to be an asshole.

"Everyone one's just too scared to approach you or they're too damn lazy to make the climb." He said, watching her eyes slide to the creases in the sidewalk. "And I know that's not what you're like. I've seen it myself. You're kind of amazing when you think no one's watching." He had gotten a peek of that girl, the one who was kicking up leaves without a care in the world. And he spied her again, watching her face come alive with her rolled up sleeves and work gloves. That girl, the girl who would go out of her way to change things - that was the real Delilah Wayne. With a gentle tug he got her walking again. By the sound of the silence, he was sure he'd done irrefutable damage.

"So what was boarding school like? Were you a naughty kid or something?" He could see a small wisp of a smile trying to brave her wind bitten face.

"Not really." As the smile faded from her, Timothy found himself clenching cheek between his teeth. If he could take the words back, would it erase the way she was looking at him? If he closed his eyes, would that look still be there when he opened them again? "You ever feel alone in a crowded room?" He asked softly, feeling their arms swing like a pendulum between them. "That's what it's like. Or at least that how it was for me." He said biting his tongue when he heard the familiar hum of his phone. It wasn't in the pockets of his pants. Shit. When he watched Del's delicate fingers pull the humming device from the pocket of his coat, he was sure his lungs would collapse.

"Your dad." She said, cheeks flushing as she handed it to him. "Sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"Its fine, it's not like I'm going to answer it anyway." He grumbled, aware of how she was studying him when he jammed it in his pocket.

"Not on good terms, huh?"

"Understatement. I live in a house I barely know with a man who's a bit more like an acquaintance than a father." The words were spewing out, hard and cold and as bitter as Gotham itself. "My parents loved each other, they loved their work, and they sure loved to travel. I was the kid who almost never went home…and when I did…it was like I was living with strangers." Why was all coming out like this? Like word vomit? And she just said nothing; she only continued to walk beside him, her fingers squeezing gently into his hand. "They gave me everything." The whisper all but clawed its way up his throat. "But even if I had…them and nothing…" _I would've been happy, right? _

"Sounds lonely."

He wanted to look at her, and yet he kept his eyes on the pools of lamp light ahead them. "It was…I guess that's why I'd get so obsessive about things. First it was Batman, and then when I found the old pictures we took at the circus of the Graysons, it became Robin. It let my brain go somewhere else…even if it was just for a while..." But even now he knew that his thoughts wouldn't stay preoccupied forever. They always did circle back to his parents, leaving him still to hope and pray that maybe they'd acknowledge him at some point. "Then…Mom died. Dad was in a coma. There I was…officially by myself. And along came Bruce Wayne of all people."

He could feel Del's eyes boring into him at the mention of her father's name. "He'd pop in at the school to check on me. That stopped when Dad woke up two years ago." Oh, by now they both knew why.

"I didn't know he—he never said anything…"

"No? I asked him about you once…" But the words slid off in the air to die. It was like she knew; he could see it in her face. "We're not that different are we?" It was the only thing his mouth would let him say. In the midst of watching Del shake her head, Tim could feel the phone coming to life from the depths of his pocket.

With a slight bump into his shoulder, Tim could feel his grimace slipping. "Maybe you should answer it." She said lightly, as the stepped into the dingy light of a street lamp. "Or…do you want me to reach into your pocket an answer it for you?"

"You wouldn't."

"I wouldn't? Are you sure about that?"

No. He had no doubt that she would. With the shoulders of his shadow rising only to fall he dug the device from his pocket. "The powers of good or evil I mentioned…this would be evil."

"A necessary evil." She said, giving his shoulder another bump as he sigh fled into the air.

"How come you're not being called left and right? I'm sure he knows you flew the coop by now."

"I'm sure he does." She said simply. "I left my phone in the car…on accident."

"Yeah, accidentally on purpose." He grunted, watching that devious smirk brighten her face. Oh, so she knew how to play this game a lot better than he thought. "Yeah, Dad?"

"_Where the hell are you?!"_

"Taking a walk."

"_If you're not back here in ten minutes-"_

"That's not gonna happen. But I promise we'll be back by the end of the party."

"_We?!" _As the giggles started to slip out of the girl beside him, Tim found himself poking her with his elbow. _"Timothy Jackson Drake! Are-are you with a girl?!" _Someone kill him. Just kill him now. Even with Del's free hand pressed over her lips he could still hear the light spurts of laughter tumbling out of her. The boy couldn't tell if he was blushing or if the color was draining from his face. Jack Drake actually sounded _surprised_. _"For the love of God, stay out of trouble." _

Hearing nothing more, Del watched a bewildered Tim let the phone slide right back into his pocket. "That didn't seem too bad." She said, tugging his hand to get them moving again, but the boy seemed rooted in the small circle of light, his own pulling beckoning her closer in turn. Only when the girl looked ahead did she realize that someone was standing just out of their reach.

"Awww, look what we have, fellas. A pair of lovebirds." The voice had barely begun to scratch its way up her spine as the figure edged closer and closer to the touch of the light, letting the dingy yellow glow etch its way across a familiar mask. A twisted yellow smile tucked into a pair of blood red lips, it had to be clowns.

Without even twisting her head to look behind her the girl could hear the sound of heavy soles scrapping the sidewalk. There were more. Maybe a few too many. It was then Del finally untangled herself from Tim's steely grasp. Whatever happened next, they were gonna need both hands.

* * *

_If you don't learn how to keep yourself from being eaten alive, this city will swallow you whole, body and soul. _His father had never spoken truer words, and considering the source it was almost comical. Noah Larson couldn't speak the truth if his life depended on it. But he was right. Gotham was that place in the world, that place that drew in the ambitious and the hungry. It could make great men…and it could make great men fall. He had left this wretched city so many times, and yet it called him back each and every time. It was either home…or he was just glutton for punishment.

"I think I'm just a glutton, Talon. Just like the rest of them." He could feel the falcon's claws poking into his shirt, but by now his skin had been so marred with scars he could hardly feel it. Talon only seemed to twitch his head, his sharp eyes darting after the filth that the wind swept down the streets. Streets that seemed all too quiet. If a street was quiet in this place…there was a reason. And that reason was just up ahead. Bird had come to know what to expect from this city, he knew this stretch of town was the Joker's main squeeze. But with his ass stuck in Arkham, that left his cronies to run around the joint as they pleased. So to see them crowded around a pair of unsuspecting strangers hooting and hollering wasn't new.

They didn't pester him, and he wasn't going to bother, but as the man got a closer look at the pair of kids with their backs against the wall, he felt his guts slide down to his boots. Ah, hell. Only one girl could resemble his sister so well. _Damn it, damn it, damn it. _This was going to fuck things up. "Go." Talon was off.

The air felt like it was twisting a knife in her lungs. Feeling the grooves of the brick digging into her back, Del had no choice but to force herself to breathe. This position sure as hell wasn't ideal, but at least it meant that no one come up from behind her. Trying to keep her eyes on Tim's back, she ducked under a fist that was thrown in her direction, listening to the sound of his knuckles crumbling against the wall where she should have been. She had closed her eyes just long enough to miss the dusting of rubble. But a split second was all one of the hooligan's needed to get behind Tim.

"Behind!" She cried, grabbing the head of the man in front of her and launching her knee into his chest again and again, until he slumped to the ground. With one man hanging around his neck and another in front of him, Tim was all but turning purple as he tried to block the coming swings. Before the girl could even react, the street was filled with the sound of a strangled scream. A falcon was pecking and clawing the top of the man's head, streaking the pale white mask with wide bands of blood. In his panic to dislodge the bird, he released his grip from Tim's neck. It was all the boy needed to head-butt the man in front of him.

_A falcon?! Then it has to be-_

"Wha-What the fuck?! Bird! This Ain't you're part of town."

Chest heaving, all Del could do was stare at the man as he lifted his arm to summon the bird back to him. _That day at the ice rink…_He had the same blonde curly hair, the same narrow blue eyes. This was her uncle. Benjamin "Bird" Larson.

"Eight of you for two teenagers? Now how's that a fair fight?" He asked stepping across the man in front of Tim as if he were nothing more than a rug. Without warning he snatched Tim by the collar of his shirt. "I'm feeling generous, take the girl and go." He said letting the boy go with a shove.

"Now what makes _you_ think that _we're _going to let them go?" In the chorus of expectant laughter, Del could feel weight of Bird's eyes on her as she bent down to gather her shoes. Except Tim reached out and snagged her, letting a shoe drop to the sidewalk with a clatter.

It was all chaos from that moment. A mixture of curses and falcon screams with the sound of feet on the pavement. There wasn't even time to look back. "I don't know what the fuck just happened, but I'm going with it." Tim hissed, as they darted through the streets of Gotham more than aware they had a couple clowns at their heels.

As the sound of gunshots barreled through the city, only Tim's guiding hand kept the girl from looking back to see where the gunfire had come from. Bird didn't use guns did he? At the sound of shrieking, Del was forced to pay attention as they darted into the crowd that was streaming out of the mouth of the subway.

"You can parkour or freestyle right?!"

"What kind of stupid question is that?! Dick Grayson's my brother, of course I can!" She cried, so unsure why the boy was smiling as he released her from his hold. Instead she simply kept pace with him as he leapt down the thick concrete railing of the stairs that lead the world deeper into the subway. Hopping from one flight to the next she caught her fall with a tumble to the floor before matching him in a leap over the turnkeys.

"Hey! God Damn Kids! Del turned to look at the security officer who was starting to run in their direction when yelps of panic began to echo down the giant stairwell. She had just caught a glimpse of a clown mask when she felt Tim's hand latch on to her wrist, dragging her to the open train car. They had just stumbled inside the car when the doors clamped shut with a hiss. If it hadn't been for Tim holding her up, she may have collapsed right there. Instead she watched the clowns reach the platform just in time for her to blow them a kiss as the train pulled away from the platform. _So long suckers!_

* * *

In a cloud of ragged breathes the girl finally allowed herself to look around the car. There were only a handful of people, most with their heads down in their I-phones or books. Say for one little old lady who was sitting in quietly with her purse on her lap. "Del." The girl shuddered, feeling Tim's breath brush across the back of her neck, but as he gestured to the wall plaques in the car, the girl found herself drawn to them, beckoned by the photographs that had grown yellow with age under the thick bold letters of her last name.

The old map exploded over the page like veins, but in the soft reflection of the plastic covers she could see Tim's reflection behind her. "We're on the original route now." The route her grandfather had put in.

"They don't use half those routes anymore." The soft thick voice forced Del's eyes to the little old lady with her purple coat and red purse. "First time on the train?" She asked, watching the girl's fingers touch the print of the late Thomas Wayne. Of course someone else had come along and drawn a monocle and a top hat on the man with permanent marker.

"Oh, yes ma'am. Well, this one anyway."

The old woman's eyes seemed to crinkle as she smiled. "Back in the day, this train was some hot stuff. Everything was still shiny and new back then. It was supposed to usher the city into a bright new future." The woman said waving her wrinkled fingers in the air. "Things were much more hopeful in those days." She said with a sigh, letting her dark round eyes fall to her hands for the briefest of moments. "A different time I suppose. Most of the old routes were reclaimed by the subway and then one by one they shut down. Some big to do about property rights for the big wigs, never mind how the everyday person relied on it." The woman stopped, covering her thin ruby lips with her frail fingers. "Oh, don't mind me I'll ramble on and on!" Del could only manage to smile as she looked back at the old map. Hopeful?

"Del?" Feeling Tim's fingers under her chin she let her head turn to the doors. Was that her sigh she heard? Or his? Was she even sure she was looking at Gotham? Its towers seemed to glow bright in the dark, letting her catch glimpses of the stone creatures that still clung to every corner and nook like guardians of another age. Surely this wasn't her city of rusted steel and crumbling stone. Even Gotham River had been transformed, still and studded with glittering reflections. This can't be the same city.

Hand resting on the railing above his head he leaned into her. "You should see your face right now." He murmured, watching a shade of crimson roll across her cheeks. If she could just see the way she looked at this city. It was like she was staring at it for the first time ever. A city she had grown up in. She looked at it like it still had something in it worth saving. Even now, he could see the gears turning in her head_. I told you, you're amazing when you think no one is watching you._

As soon as the view came, it fled, and yet Delilah Wayne didn't budge from her spot. Shoe still dangling in her hand, she could only imagine the look on her face as her thoughts crawled elsewhere. What if there was a way to give that feeling back to the city? Why had her grandfather's trains fallen out of grace like this? Why did her father just let it happen? The squealing of the breaks reached her ears long before the sudden lurch of the car. One second she was standing just in front of the doors, the next she was pinned against the old plaques with Tim's arm around her waist.

"That was close." He murmured, feeling her sharp exhale slide against his cheek. Her fingers, he realized, were fisted so hard into his shirt that her knuckles had almost gone white.

"I see you use your powers for good."

"I try." He murmured, so aware that only a breath seemed to separate them. It wouldn't take much for his lips touch hers, even if just for a second. One blissful second. As his lip touched her's, felt her body stiffen against him, so unsure, and then just as she seemed to surrender—the car lurched forward again, forcing the pair to smack their heads together as the train screeched to a full stop. There was nothing they could do but laugh.

"Jesus! What is it about this night?!" He cried, watching her rub her head as she all but dissolved into a puddle of laughter.

"I don't-I don't know. Ow. You've got a hard head, you know that?"

"Yeah well, so do you!" He jested as he untangled himself from her. "You're the most suborn person I know."

"Someone's been hanging out with Dick way too much."

"Hell! Look what happens when I hang out with you!"

* * *

There was something about the smell of gunpowder that made his nose itch. It wasn't nostalgic or anything, even if his father was gun happy. But as the man watched the sidewalk slowly turn from a shade of gray to blackish red, Bird could only stare at the guy in the leather coat.

"Huh. Was that really necessary?" He asked dryly, letting his fingers preen the top of Talon's head.

"You helped her, and that's the only reason I'm letting you live."

The gun still felt warm as it poked him in the chest. Would this guy pull the trigger. Oh hell yes. The bodies at his feet were proof enough of that. But oh, no, something was curious about this one. "What do you care about a little rich girl?"

"What's it to you?" he snapped, pressing the gun harder into his chest. "You gonna tell me you were just feeling generous? I know about you, Bird. That's not your style."

"You've got me there, Red. But that's my _personal_ business. Now, excuse me, I don't want to get blood on my shoes." Huh, why would the Red Hood be so concerned about his niece? Now that was curious… Stepping over the closest body, Bird eased his way down the sidewalk; it'd have cops crawling all over it before long.

"Stay away from her, Bird."

Feeling Talon's claws dig up his arm as the falcon moved to perch on his shoulder the man couldn't help it but pause. "I will if you will." He called back, listening for the sound of the man's boots on the pavement, and yet all he could hear was the distant cry of sirens. So, the Red Hood was concerned about his niece. Oh, he didn't like that. He didn't like that one little bit. It meant one thing…whoever he was…he knew the girl personally. Now, wasn't that just curious as hell?


	21. November 12th: Part One

**A/N:** Running long again, so long in fact that I wouldn't be surprised if part two is ready to go by the end of the weekend. It's all setting up for that party. As long as these chapters have been getting, I may be off on my 30 count. (But only by a little.) There's a bit of everything so yes, a bit of Tim and Jason. I see the reviewers are split on that one. lol!

* * *

I could still feel his lip touching mine, as if it were nothing but a butterfly's wing. Even when my teeth stabbed into my lip, I could still feel the soft memory lingering there as if it were teasing me. I'd never been so close to having my first kiss. And if—if I'd just surrendered sooner, if I hadn't froze…maybe…

"So, do you want to tell me where you've been?" Dad's voice pulls me from the train car, untangling me from the memory Tim's weight and the cradling hand that kept my head from hitting the wall. I'm in the backseat again, watching the glowing buildings cut ribbons of light into the cab of the car. The man beside me wasn't happy. I can feel the words bubbling at the back of my throat and yet I can only stare at the shoe lying in my lap. I want to tell him about jumping out the window. I want to tell him about the dogs and the paparazzi. And about the train, God I want to tell him about that. My mouth is threatening to tell him about how we snuck into the theatre and watched the most amazing dance group ever. I saw a little girl rise out of the ashes. I watched her preform and smile. I watched her forget that her world had fallen apart.

And yet all I could do was tilt my head toward the window, and watch the lights of the train speed by over our heads. I wanted to tell someone about the feel of Tim's hand in mine. I wanted to talk about our shadows dancing on the concrete. "Delilah."

I didn't recognize the girl in the window, that half smiling girl who seems so full of wonder. But I do catch Bruce Wayne's stoic reflection. He's still waiting on an answer. I can't tell him about holding a boy's hand or nearly kissing him and how that keeps giving my insides that strange ticklish sensation that just wanted to make a laugh climb out of my lungs for no good reason.

"If I'm in trouble it was worth it." It's the only thing my tongue could manage for fear of betraying me of all my secrets. The silence didn't suffocate me for once; I was too lost in my kaleidoscope of memories to even notice.

"Oh, where has Little Miss Wayne's mind gone?"

Alfred's voice beckons me before I feel the cold rushing in to greet me. Wait…Tim's jacket. It's still hugging around my shoulders. I never gave him back his jacket. The thought is pushed away as Alfred stretches out his hand expectantly.

"Nowhere…and everywhere, Alfred."

Even in the faint glow of manor I can see his half-hearted smile warming his old cheeks as he helped me out of the car. "Careful, you might wish to be this happy all the time." He warned, letting the sound of my shoes chase us inside.

Even as the warmth of the house begins to work off the chill that's still clinging to me, I couldn't help but stare up the stairs. "He's not really mad at me is he? I mean, for being out so late that Jezebel took a cab home."

"Perhaps if Master Bruce knew what made his young daughter so delighted, he may not mind. He's only unreasonable ninety percent of the time." Feeling the jacket slide from me I can't stop the sudden shudder that worked its way up my spine, I'd grown so used to it that now I felt bare without it.

"Ten percent chance of survival is better than zero." I murmur, feeling my limbs pull me up the stairs before my head could decide against it.

* * *

Despite her light feet, he could still hear her coming. Didn't she know that he came to recognize the soft patter of her feet, no matter how big she'd gotten? It wasn't like she left little footprints leading from the door to his chair anymore. But once he knew something, it was hard to let it go. Even if the carpet was bare he could still remember the path her nervous feet would take. No, he couldn't let that go. He would never let that go.

"Dad?"

Letting his coat rest on his desk chair, Bruce turned to the voice, hesitating at the young woman who was leaning against the doorjamb, her fingers carefully taking the heavy ruby earrings out of her ears. When…when had she become such a lady? How did he miss the transition from the little girl in her nightgown with her books, to this? Closing his eyes all the man could do was sigh, as if it would lift the weight off his chest, but when he found the soft shadows of the office once more, he could still feel the heaviness pressing into his ribs, a weight heavier than Delilah's head had ever been. "Yes, Del?"

"I just wanted to put the earrings back in the safe." She replied braving the faint light as she waded closer to the desk. "I'm sorry if my actions made Jet- Jezebel leave." That?! That's what she was worried about? _Jesus, Paige, help me. Help me please. _ But nothing would answer his silent pleas; he could only stare up at the ceiling, where the shadows conspired over their heads with the remnants of the firelight. With a shake and hiss he forced himself to turn from her. But no sooner had his fingers come to rest on the safe did something come rising out of him.

"I was worried about you, you little brat!" Even in her shadow, he could feel her flinching as he rose to his feet with the empty earring box in his fingers. "You think I'm upset with you over _Jezebel_?! My daughter was running around the city-"

"Dad, I was okay. I wasn't alone."

"I don't care! This isn't Metropolis! It's Gotham!" There was a moment he wasn't sure if the voice that was roaring out of him was even his. He could feel his hands slamming into the desk, and yet, he couldn't - it was like everything was coming out of him without his consent. Watching her, he could see the veins in her hands go rigid as the color began to rush from her knuckles.

"Oh, come on! I'm fuc-freaking Batgirl -"

"That's different! You're not completely unarmed, or out of my reach!"

"I just went to see Sissy dance, Dad, that's all! Like you didn't already know!" She cried, uncurling her fingers from one of the earrings. Glancing down he could see blood pooling in her pale palm. Snatching her wrist the ruby fell from her bloodied fingers, clipping the desk before it landed somewhere at her feet. "No matter what we did, nothing seemed to go right." Her voice whispered, "We jumped out of the second story window…only to get chased by dogs. And the second we got over the fence, we got hit by the paparazzi." But her father's only answer was to snatch up a wad of tissues and jam them into her palm.

"Stupid kids. Why do you think I never slipped out the back door? Look before you leap."

"We ditched the cameras, and walked straight into Joker territory."

"What?! _That!_ That's what I'm talking about!" He snapped, feeling her fingers curl around his hand as he pressed just a little too hard.

"If it wasn't for Bird-"

"BIRD?! Oh, Jesus Christ, Del." But as the words came charging out of his mouth, he could feel his shoulders sliding in relief. It wasn't like Bird to put himself out there for the sake of others. It only meant that the man knew exactly who Delilah was. And he hadn't told Bane? Or was the man trying to make sure that Bane couldn't use his own niece against him? If that was the case…he wouldn't poison his baby sister. Not if he'd stick his neck out for her daughter.

"It's not him…is it? He didn't hurt Mom."

"No…he just brought trouble to her door, even if he didn't mean to. So you were able to get out of that mess?"

"Yeah, barefoot or not I still managed to beat their asses to the train." She murmured, letting him rescue the other earring from her hand before she dropped it too.

"The streets of Gotham…barefoot? " The man bit down a curse as her pale pink lips twisted into a silly little smile. She was so _proud_ of herself. She could've been- "Wipe that God damn smirk off your face. It's not funny." Watching her shrink back, Bruce had to force his jaw to relax. "I told you this isn't a game." He said, watching her duck to retrieve the fallen gem, or maybe she was ducking just to avoid him. But when he his eyes finally found her pale face, the smile was gone. She wasn't Batgirl tonight…she was just Delilah Wayne.

"Dad…I don't mean it like-"

"I should have taught you better." The words eased out of him, as soft as a sigh and yet laden with regret. He could see something swimming in her eyes, unsaid words or thoughts, but she gave him nothing but silence as she set the earring back on the desk, leaving them both to frown when they realized a chunk of the stone had chipped out.

In the space of a couple heartbeats, he watched her cheeks fill up with air, only to deflate. "Oh no…" Her hands were trembling. "Dad, I-"

"It's just a gemstone, Del." The words came out so evenly it surprised him. "It can be fixed…replaced." He murmured plopping the jewelry back into its rightful box. "You…can't." At that he slid the box to the side to let his head rest into his clasping hands. "Understand?" He waited until he could see her shadow forcing a nod before he finally cleared his throat. "This won't happen again. Will it?"

"No, Sir."

"You're not to go anywhere without your phone. I call, you answer. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir." One heartbeat, and another, and here they were staring at each other with so many words hanging between them. He couldn't…he just couldn't. With a groan the man let his head slide into his hand.

"Go to your room. Don't come out until I say." The girl turn and fled like she had be pardoned from a death sentence, and yet without even looking he could feel her lingering in the doorway.

"Grandma was right…" the words tempted him to lift his gaze from the darkness of his lids. "Even though it was probably one of the worst nights I've had in a long time, it still turned out to be one of those nights I don't think I could ever forget."

"Room. _Now_. You ridiculous princess of Gotham." Listening to her footsteps, Bruce Wayne simply groaned, as he pulled himself from his chair, letting the firelight draw him closer and closer. "Del!"

"Yeah?" Well, that was quick.

"Did you run a test on a clay sample?"

Peering at the doorway he could see her leaning into the frame as if it were holding her up. "I had Damian run a check on a sample I found last night. He was the only one who could sneak into the cave without Jet noticing."

"Where?"

Even if her body was mostly covered by shadows he could see her nails digging into the doorframe. "You found something else didn't you? What'd you find?"

"Del this is important-"

"Dad!"

"It's a match for Clayface. I want to know where the hell you were!"

"The site of…your fall." As the words slowly tumbled out of her mouth he could see her glossy eyes growing larger as the realization began to sink in. "Holy shit. It wasn't Jason." It only took a single breath for her to start darting down the hall.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" He snapped, poking his head out the door to make sure she stopped right then and there.

"The cave? " _Nice try._

"Last I checked your room wasn't in that direction."

"Dad!"

"_NOW!_"

Watching her twist around and storm back toward her room, Bruce could help but hang his head before stealing a glance at the unwavering gazes of Thomas and Martha Wayne. "Don't look at me like that. She's _your_ granddaughter." A granddaughter who could be absolutely right, but where did that notion come from? The bigger question was…why would Clayface pose as the Red Hood? What did he have to gain from it?

* * *

Sliding into that familiar space of books and pictures, bits and bobs of her life, Del sank into her reading chair, more than aware that the red high-tops on her feet had worn blisters into her heels. Funny, the sidewalks of Gotham had almost been kinder to her.

"What'cha got, Jax?" She crooned to the dog who was happily chewing on a massive rawhide bone with his rust colored paws up in the air. Strange, she didn't give him that. Working the new shoes off her feet, she wiggled her toes into the cold hard floor, aware that the single heel was resting in her lap. Just what was she going to do with it? _Keep it, because you're half ridiculous._ A ridiculous princess of Gotham indeed. Shaking her head the girl rose to her tired feet, not minding the swish of the skirt as she ambled to her desk…only to stop halfway when she realized that a familiar brown leather Jacket was resting on the back of her chair. In two bounding leaps, she found her boots sitting in the seat. _Jason._ Jason had been there.

For the briefest of seconds she peered back at the lazy Doberman. "Easily bribed, I see." She crooned, noticing something new sitting amongst the chaos of paper on her desk. "He was just kissing your butt so you didn't bite him again." She said to the dog, as she lifted the small white box. With slightly uncertain fingers she pulled away the thick red ribbon, curious to find a small card stuffed on top with just a single word written in the emptiness. _Sorry_. Peeling back the thin piece of cardstock, she could see the shimmer of silver hiding in its shadow. A small birdcage with an open door…and a snowflake? _So, you do remember…_

* * *

With dog pressed into her side and a rambling mind, all Del could seem to do was stare at the shadows on the ceiling. her brain only wanted to wander back through the streets of Gotham, or up into the catwalks of the theatre, or even back into that faint light on the sidewalk, where she had all but forced Tim to dance with her as the street performers played. Somewhere between these thoughts, she spotted the light of her phone lighting up the darkness as if were signaling her back to reality. A text? She didn't recognize the number.

_So…how much trouble were you in? _ Tim?!

_And just how did you get my number? Grounded until further notice. You?_

_I have my ways. :D A little surprised you answered. Old man's still in shock I think. Not grounded…yet._

Oh? Really now? He had ways? More like he probably stole it from Dick's phone. Crafty little Bird Boy.

_Can't sleep. _

_Damn insomniacs. How's the feet? _

_Better now that you're not stepping on them. ^.^ _

_Ouch. Excuse me while I'll crawl off to find the burn cream. _

Del could feel the laugh building before it burst, sending waves of sound into the darkness. It was enough to make Jax lift his head and stare at her as if she'd lost her ever loving mind, but she gave the dog nothing more than a pat on the head as she stared at the soft glowing screen.

_How's the cranium?_

_Doesn't hurt anymore, no thanks to your hard ass head. ;) _

_I'm stubborn, what can I say? Hey...Tim?_

_? _

_Thanks._

_No prob. I recorded the performance. You want?_

_YES! _

_Sent. So how mad did Bruce get?_

Oh…he was mad alright. Just not the way she expected. _ He called me a brat. Lol. _

_Wha?!_

_You made me worry you little brat. __ At least I know he cares about me enough to worry.3 Feels kind of nice. I'm grounded! I should be sulking or something. __ Your dad wasn't mad? _

_Hell no! I get in the car and the first thing he asks me is: So, did you kiss her? _

_OMG! WTF did you say?! _

_No. But not from a lack of trying. _

For a long moment all Del could do was stare at the words on the screen, feeling her blood crawl up her face in the glow. Oh, no…what could she say now? Did she want him to kiss her? Yeah. Before she could even get a conscious thought together, something else jumped up in that bright green bubble.

_Told him about us smacking our heads together on the train. He said we deserved it. It's embarrassing, but it's probably the best conversation I've had with him in the last two years. So, I have you to thank for that. _

_Good. I mean you're welcome! _

_Yeah…and how much did you tell your Dad, huh? _

_I omitted things…or else it would have been super awkward. He may not kill you, but I'm pretty sure he'd hurt you, right after he puts me in a nunnery. It'd probably be good if Damian didn't learn anything either. Dick? He doesn't have any room to talk!_

_LMAO. I forgot about that. Him and Barbra. . He doesn't read your texts does he? _

_Why? Little birdy scared now? ;) I delete everything. _

_Nah. Just don't want things to get weird with them just because I tried to kiss you. Fail. _

_Epic. _

_What'cha doing tomorrow? _

_Exercising the birds at Gotham Animal Park. You?_

_Lunch with Dad. Shocker, right? And patrol with Dick and the demon child. I'll see if I can get the old man to take a little visit, if that's not weird of course. When will you be out there?_

_8-noon. _

_Shit. You need to go to sleep, don't you? I'll try to pop in. Night. _

_Night! _

_Night. _

So it was going to be like that huh? _Night._

_Night :D _

_Night ^.^ _

_Jesus, go to bed you freaking insomniac. G'night. _

_Actually…it's 2am so, yeah. Good morning! _

_You're not getting the last word. Good night, Del. _

_Challenge accepted. Good morning. :D _

_Stop texting me, Woman! Go to bed. :) Night! _

_Stop texting me back!_

_Stop giving me stuff to text back to! _

_Stop sending me messages that I'm going to reply to because you keep replying! _

_I think you just broke my brain. On that note, I'm going to bed, because you won't. Night. _

_Not my problem. Night. _

_Oh, for fucks sake! You win! GOOD NIGHT!_

_That's right, Bird Boy! Nighty night. :D _

_Psych! _

_Brat!_

_Look who's talking! :D_

* * *

_At least I know he cares about me enough to worry_. Out of all the lines that came to life on the screen, his eyes kept traveling back to the same one. "You seem more melancholy than usual, Master Bruce." As Alfred's lilting words rivaled the echoing squeaks of the bats, the man could only let his hands rub across his face as the old butler's shadow gently pressed forward, letting his own face grow slack. "If her little words hurt you, Master Bruce, then I suppose it means you still have a heart somewhere in that body of yours." He stated, swiping the half empty coffee cup from the top of the computer.

"Have I been that distant?"

"Yes."

The single syllable seemed to make the man flinch. "Way to hold back, Alfred." But Alfred Pennyworth only seemed to smirk as he topped the cup off.

"I've never done so with you, Sir, nor will I ever." He said setting the mug in front of him. "You've always implied that you adore her in your own way. That works on the boys, but I suspect your daughter wouldn't mind actually hearing it once or twice in her lifetime. It's not going to kill you, no matter what that mind of yours tries to tell you." He said, not even batting an eye as the cave seemed to roar to life with the sound of the Batmobile. "Face it, Bruce. Your little girl may be like you in many ways, but she is ultimately her mother's daughter. Thinks with her head and feels with her heart—something you're very shy to do for yourself."

"She's almost sixteen, Alfred, what've I been doing all that time?" Leaning back, he could hear the sound of Dick and Damian's feet scuffing the well-worn floor, but he couldn't even turn to look at the shadows.

"Is sixteen. Or have you forgotten what today is?"

"No…I haven't forgotten." He murmured, feeling his fingers fish for the small shell that was hiding in his pocket. He could remember every single moment he had with her. Perhaps for the rest of the world, the moments should have blurred together, bookmarking only the best and the worst, and yet he could remember every single second. From the stolen seconds at the office when he'd find a very chipper little girl sitting a Paige's desk, to the feel of her weight in his arms when he uncurled her from the backseat of the car and carried her up the stairs in her blood stained nighty—he remembered it all.

How many times had he stood there in the doorway, watching her fingers twitch in her sleep? How long had it taken him before he could actually step into her room to put her head back on her pillow or to put another blanket on the bed? It took some convincing to allow himself to enjoy her happiness. He never wanted anyone waiting for him at the end of the night. And yet, having his daughter crawl into his lap with her books, or finding her curled up on his chair, it only affirmed his purpose. To protect the innocent, even if they didn't see him as a hero. At least she did. And even after all this…she still hadn't waivered. That had to be Dick and Alfred's doing.

"I've got something for you to wrap your head around, Boss." Even as he felt Dick's heavy hand resting on the top of his chair, Bruce didn't pull his eyes from the soft glow the screen as he watched the monitor fill up with text a few lines at a time.

"So apparently-" The words seemed to stagger out of the man's mouth as he leaned in. "Is that what I think it is? Are you seriously reading her text messages?!"" He asked, pulling back the cowl. "Isn't that overkill?"

Bruce let his fisted hands fall from his mouth. "If you ever have a daughter, you'll understand." He murmured, leaning back in his chair, as Dick reeled himself back in. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dick's mouth forming into a slow smile before the sound of a chuckle began to peel out of him.

"What a little flirt! That's almost cute." He crooned, wincing when Bruce's hand connected with the back of his head. "Hey, I said almost."

"From what I've read. you haven't got any room to comment." The man grumbled, turning the screen off completely when Damian tried to press in.

"Let me see."

"_No_."

"It's not like I can't figure it out on my own, you know." The boy warned pulling back his hood as he stalked away.

Shaking his head, Bruce only reached out to lift his mug. "So, what do I need to wrap my head around?"

"Five dead clowns."

The coffee went down hard, scorching a trail down his throat. _We ran straight into Joker territory. _

"When was this?!" Damian snapped, ripping off his cape.

"You were doing surveillance. Didn't see the point in interrupting you."

Bruce let the cup hit the computer with a thud. "Did any of them have claw marks?" He asked, watching Dick's dark eyes grow larger.

"A few. But it's the bullets to their heads that killed them." Dick said evenly, eyeing the man. "How did you know about the claw marks?"

"A pair of dumb kids decided to sneak off to theatre. They ran into some trouble along the way…trouble that Bird helped them get out of."

"You're kidding." But as Bruce just leered at him, the young man only sighed. "Okay…not kidding. Wow. Bird, huh? Bird's not a nice guy by any means, I know he can use a gun, but I don't think he killed them. Especially when the caliber matches the guns Jason prefers…unless you want to tell about someone else who has a grudge against clowns." Dick added, setting a small glass jar beside the man's mug.

The spent round rattled, making the sound of metal hitting glass echo through the cave as Bruce lifted it up. Why was it everywhere Del went, Jason was sure to follow? The thought made his gut clinch. Even if Jason hadn't caused his fall, it didn't make the thought any easier to swallow down. He had to be following Delilah for a reason—and whatever it could be, it didn't feel like a good one. What did Jason know that they didn't? "He's been following her."

"Yeah, if you think about it, he's been following her for months." Dick said quietly, letting his ungloved hands fall from the back of his neck as he moved in for the keyboard. "At first…I thought he was just mocking her…" He added, as he pulled up a slightly grainy video of Delilah's pole climb. "I guess you could say that's when it started." He muttered, watching her harness slide to the ground. "So the question is why would Jason follow Del around?"

"I don't know, Grayson, why do assassins shadow people?" With the pair of them looking up at the boy, they could only see his smirk crawling across his face as he leaned on platform's banister.

"He wouldn't. Sure they didn't get along as kids, but that doesn't mean-"

"Only an idiot like you would believe that. He's shot her before, hasn't he?" As the words tumbled from Damian's lips, he could see his father's face growing darker. Oh, didn't Father know? _Tch_. Serves them right. He knows now. "I don't know what he's doing; this is sloppy for the league of assassins. I wouldn't trust him."

"Who said anything about trusting him?"

* * *

_Keep her safe…and happy. _Somehow the sound of his own footsteps couldn't chase Paige's last words from his head. _I know this wasn't what you had in mind, but I'm trying. _Dodging the lighter shadows the man ignored the soft groan of the heavy oak doors his feet had dragged him to. His own mind didn't seem to think about the path he was taking, had he worn out this floor that much? Had he come to know the color and creases of this hall better in the darkness? Passing open doors he stopped at the last set, aware of how familiar the curved handle felt in his hand. With only a soundless breath he let the door slide open, showing him a room bathed in the stark bands of dying night.

Ignoring the subtle rumble of a dog's growl, Bruce slid into his daughter's room, lifting a hand to the dog that had all but taken up the entirely of an unmade bed. A bed that was vacant. He had barely noticed the Doberman's silence as he let his gaze travel over the shadows of the picture frames to the body that was slumped at the desk beside the bed.

Even in this dull light he could see the smudges of pastel powder on her fingertips. Her giant headphones were still on her head, humming some soft winding melody into her ears, and yet…she was out cold - sleeping with her pastel dusted cheek pressed into the desk. Reaching over her, he lifted the piece she had pushed aside, letting the faint light from the windows shine on the soft curves and rigid lines that had taken up the paper—the view from the train… staring at it only made something in his chest ache. So this is how she saw Gotham.

Setting the heavy paper down, he carefully untangled the headphones from her head, letting the air soak up the soft notes of something soft and vaguely electronic. Setting them down carefully he could see the dog's dark eyes shining at him as his hand gently shook her shoulder. "Del…" Sure she probably succumbed to the lull of sleep only a couple hours ago, but that was her own fault. "Hey, Kid. Wake up."

He heard that waking hiss before he saw her pale blue eyes peek out from behind those dark lashes. Only when she lifted her head did his hand fall from her bony shoulder. "…Dad?"

"Let's take a walk. Dress warmly, there's snow on the ground."

"…it's early." She groaned narrowing her eyes at her dust covered fingers, before she let them slide to the alarm clock by the bed. "It's only 4…"

"You didn't have a problem with that sixteen years ago at 4:40 in the morning." He said softly, watching her sit up as his words began to sink in. _What? Did you think I didn't know?_ He hadn't known it right away, but at 4:40 in the morning of November 12th his life had changed forever. "There's coffee." He added, giving her another shake before he turned for the door, forcing Jax to follow him with a sharp whistle. "Ten minutes." He called, straining to hear the sound of her exhausted staggering. "She texted that boy all night didn't she?" The dog only answered him with a yawn and a stretch. "That's what I thought."

* * *

Did she have the slightest clue where her father was leading her? No. Ducking under the ice heavy branches the girl had no choice but to wade in her father's deep footprints, trying not to wonder over the silence that stretched out between them. And even though she hadn't uttered a word from the moment they had slipped from the manor, she knew he heard every little noise she made, from every staggering step, to each bitten curse, and yes, even the hiss of her inhaler. "I haven't seen you use that in a while." He said, forcing her to realize that he had stopped and was simply watching her.

Del grimaced as she let it slide back into her pocket, forcing her lungs to fill with the thin bitter air. It…it was almost empty. If he knew…he wouldn't let her-"It's this wind." She whispered, paying no mind to the touch of the snow on her cheek as she hurried to close the distance between them. "Where we going?"

Bruce pried his eyes from her pocket; it wasn't unusual for the cold to make it hard for her to breathe. _When was the last time she'd seen the cardiologist?_ The man felt his lips falling into a frown, he couldn't even remember! "Almost there. Tommy's stopping by today, do I-"

"I'm fine, Dad." She grumbled at him, not even trying to shrug him away when he caught her neck with the crook of his arm. "Though I distinctly remember you saying there was coffee." She said into her scarf to stifle her yawn.

_Way to change the subject_. "Right here." He said, showing her the dangling thermos. "I wouldn't lie about coffee. Though if you hadn't stayed up all night texting with Tim-" The body pressed into his side seemed to go as stiff as the frozen trees. "What?" he asked, dragging her forward when her feet seemed to tangle together.

"You-you-you read my texts?!"

Even as she buried her head, he could see that red flush creeping across her wind bitten face. "Even the ones you deleted."

"DAD!"

"Did you and Tim really smack your heads together?"

"Oh my god! You did! You did read my texts!" _Then he…then he saw…_

"I'm Batman, you little brat, or did you forget?"

For a long moment, nothing slipped from either of them, even as Bruce paused there in the grove of trees, watching their breath slip into the paling darkness in thin white clouds. Without any warning he twisted the girl around until her body slammed into his chest. When was the last time that he hugged her? Two years ago? "…but I'm also your father." He murmured. "A father who is really, really bad with words." He added, feeling his gloved fingers tangle themselves into her hair.

"I know…" She answered, letting her arms grip around him as far as they would allow. "Or did you forget that we covered that already?"

Staring up at the clouded sky, Bruce was sure if the pressure on his chest was just her head pressing into his ribs, or if that was a chuckle trying to claw its way out. "You know…you know that I…how much I…"

"If you make me cry I'm gonna kick you." It came out like a warning, and yet she could only continue to dig her fingers into him as if she were afraid he'd suddenly melt into the snow. And even if she wanted to hear the rest come out of his mouth, something was telling her to be merciful. "I love you too." She whispered, feeling his chin resting on the top of her head as he all but squished her into his chest. She could almost hear that steady rhythm of his heart over the sound of his voice.

"So back to my question-"

"I'll answer that if you tell me how Mom figured out you were the bat."

"Really now? Is this how it's gonna go?"

"Really."

Watching that grin brighten her face, he could help but shake his head at the girl. Letting his arms fall away he steered her back on course. "Deal. But you're up first." He said, watching her lift her gaze to the sky as small red breasted birds took to the air.

"Yeah. He leaned in to kiss me just before the train stopped." She said, cupping her mouth with her fingers. "It was horrible! We smacked our heads together so hard I'm shocked we didn't end up with a couple goose eggs." She said, watching her father's lips twist. "Don't laugh at me!" she cried, swatting him in the arm when the rasp of his chuckle began to leak into the air.

"Serves you right."

"Yeah, yeah….still glad I went. I rode Grandpa's train for the first time. And I saw Sissy dance." So did Damian, but she said nothing about finding the littlest Robin perched in the rafters. "You should've seen it. It was really good. They turned it into this ballet crossed with a light show…Sissy totally stole the whole damn thing."

"Mouth, Young Lady."

"Sorry. Hey…you think they could perform at the party on Saturday? " She asked, sliding out from under the weight of her father's arm to hop on a giant boulder that rose from the snow covered ground.

"I thought she and her aunt were moving up to Metropolis that weekend." He said, watching her stretch out her arms as she hopped effortlessly from one stone to the other, leaving no mark but a boot print.

"It's a college troupe. The same bunch that Sissy's mom used to work with. She choreographed the show just before her health took a turn for the worst. They invited Sissy out of respect." She said as she twisted about. "I think if someone asked Miss Maddox nicely…someone with a little more clout than little ol' me…"

"Okay, okay, but I make no promises." Bruce said holding up his empty palms. "I think the kids would enjoy that."

"Kids? What kids?"

"The kids from_ Gotham Children's, Paige for Parents and Quest Kids._" He said, peering over his shoulder when his daughter had all but paused. "I figured if we're going to fill the house with a bunch of fat cats, we might as well see if we can get them to open their wallets for your favorite originations. And since we couldn't turn our noses up at your beloved classmates, I invited the girl's from that gym you partner with and your old choir group. You might as well see some familiar faces that actually like you."

"Really?!"

"I just hope that the whole fairytale thing isn't too…"

"No, no, Dad, that's…perfect." Did he know her better than she thought he did?

"I'm trying to make this as painless as possible, but you know this goes with the territory." He said, watching her leap to the ground.

"Speaking of things that are expected of us…I wanted to ask you something." She said, taking up residence at her father's side once more. "What happened to the trains?" The words seemed to root him to the earth.

"The property was bought up while I was away…" He said slowly, knowing full well his daughter knew where to fill in the blanks. He was training at the time. "I've gotten a great deal of the property back, but there's a silent party in the mix that still has a hold on some of the key pieces. And they're not willing to sell no matter what amount I've put on the table."

"And you don't have an inkling of who they might be?"

"If I did, we wouldn't be having this conversation." He said plainly. "Why are you asking?"

"I'd like to see them restored to the way they were. Actually, it's not just the trains, it's a lot of things…or hadn't you noticed lately that Gotham's crumbling in more ways than one?" She asked as she gently tapped him on the head.

"It's not that simple Del. Do you know how many plans come across my desk for new parks or condominiums or whatever else-"

"That's just it, Dad. I don't want to demolish anything if I can help it. It's not like I want to displace people out of their homes to put up something new. I want to save what's already here. And if it something that's beyond saving, turn it into something useful for Gotham. Can't we partner with the historical society and the arts association-"

"Okay! Okay, slow down." Her father said with a sigh, shaking his head as if he were two seconds away from admitting defeat. "Here's what I want you to do, if you're so fired up about it, come up with a few small projects we can start on, give me a full report and we'll go from there_. Small_, Del. I know you just want to jump right in, but people don't respond to change very well."

"But-"

"Especially the people of Gotham." It's not like he couldn't understand. It's not like he hadn't been that ambitious at the start, that he hadn't looked at this city and saw all the things he could try to save, all the things he could try to change. But that's the strange thing about change. It doesn't come fast or willingly.

Perhaps that would be something she'd have to learn over time. But as Bruce stared at her all he could see was that fire glowing in her eyes and nothing he said was going to extinguish it. "It's not impossible. It's just one hell of an uphill battle." But that's all she'd ever known, right? One uphill battle after another? He had tried so hard to keep her from the path his life had taken, and somehow…in a strange way it had followed something just as similar. What else could he do but prepare her for battle?

"I either love a challenge, or I'm just a glutton for punishment."

"It's a bit of both, Kid, trust me."

* * *

Even as her feet found the slush ridden road, Del was still trapped somewhere in those early hours, letting the coffee cup burn the pads of her frozen fingers as she listened to that soft rasping voice spin a tale about a woman who had enough insane courage to drag the infamous Batman into her apartment. And that was after she had watched an all-out bat bashing on the nightly news! This was same woman who made a promise to hide his face as she stitched up his busted head.

It was only fate that had brought her to the Wayne interview room. Well, that and a bit of guilt. After all, he caused her to miss her interview earlier that day. "You know how detail oriented your mom was." Her father said to her, nursing his cup as the light began to break through the clouds. "I didn't realize I had made a pattern of calling in on days following an appearance of a bat signal. She did." The man's hand gently touched the tip of a jagged scar that ran up his temple. Few knew it ran through his hair and nearly to the crown of his head. "She just happened to touch that scar when I finally decided to kiss her. She knew then and nothing I said would convince her otherwise."

Del couldn't help but to smirk into her cup. "Who better to hide your secret than the head of the Wayne Enterprises PR department?"

"Oh, the irony." Bruce scoffed. "Your mom was the first person I ever kissed." No sooner had the words slip off his tongue did the teenager next to him almost spit out her coffee.

"What?! Now I know you're lying."

"Nope. We were probably seven and eight years old. The Devereux's own that white cottage on the Cul-de-sac."

"Wait, why am I just now learning about this?! Dad-"

"Because no one's been there in the thirteen years. I'm sure you've been inside a couple times…you just don't remember. Haven't you been reading those letters at all?!"

* * *

"HEY!" Any thought of the dull light of the sun, or the soft rasp of her father's voice was dashed the second something cold and wet began to slide down her cheek. The next the she knew, she was back on the street with the remnants of a snowball falling to her feet. "Go after your dog, you idiot!" Damian's words had barely begun to echo the snow dusted roofs when the girl realized the leash was hanging limp in her hands. Jax was nothing more than a spot of black fur against the colorless backdrop, a black speck that was hot on the trail of a bushytailed tree rat. "JAX!" Despite her yell, nothing stopped the dog from leaping over the fence of the white cottage there on that dead end street. A house she had passed regularly without a second thought, but now?

Her head wanted her to pause, wanted her to stop and try to recall this place from the dusty edges of her memory, and yet her legs were willing her forward. Or maybe she just didn't want Damian to reach Jax first—she'd never hear the end of it. _There's a car in the drive…people in the yard. _And despite all her resignations, her legs were still pulling her forward, closer to the pair who was stopped there in the driveway with grocery bags.

"I'm so sorry! Jax get back here!"

"My word, she looks like Miss Paige, doesn't she, Beau?" Del's hands were shaking so bad that Damian literally yanked the leash from her, giving her no choice but to stare up at them as Jax trotted over to the boy. The old woman simply simpered and took the sack out of the man's hands, shaking her head the entire way to the door.

"You _do_ look like your Mama." Beside her she could see Damian's shadow grow rigid. Even he was staring at this tall hazel eyed man, but maybe not with so much uncertainty. "You don't remember me, do you, Little Bit?" No. He didn't look familiar…but that drawl, that thick drawl…she had heard it before hadn't she? But that seemed so far away, tucked into a night made of soft hissing arguments. A night she couldn't remember clearly, say for the fact that her mother had taken her right from the strange bed she had just begun to fall asleep in.

"Your voice…I know it, but I-"

"Well, I couldn't expect you to remember everything now could I? You were about as big as a June bug last time I saw you." He said easily. "Uncle Beau, your mama's favorite uncle, if I do say so myself." He added splaying his paw of hand across his chest. "You're not here to see the old dragon lady are you?"

"She's here?" The words came out before she had a chance to choke them down, but Beau only raked his hand through his dark brown hair.

"Afraid so." He said with a hollow sigh. "If it's Gigi you're after, you best follow me." Without even looking back she could see Damian's shadow twisting as if he were about to lead Jax in the other direction, but without thing, her hand reached back letting her fingers curl into his slender arm. With a roll of his eyes he followed after her.

_I know this room. _For a long moment, Beau Devereux let the girl take in the main room, watching her eyes scale up the walls that were completely with photos. She let her gaze travel the winding banister above their heads. "There was a Christmas tree in that corner…" The words seemed to unfold from her tongue without her. It was enough to make the man raise his eyebrow.

"Ah, she does remember _something._" He said his long mouth curling into a wide beaming smile. "Let me see if Gigi is out of her meeting. Feel free to look around." Watching the man climbed the winding stairs, she turned to the wall, aware that Damian already had his head tilted toward the wall.

"Dragon Lady?" He asked giving her nothing more than a sniff.

"Demon's head?" Scanning the unfamiliar faces, Del tried not to pry as the house came alive with thick laughter and the tangling vowels of a southern accent. "Baby Cakes, ain't nobody got more sass than me."

"Bitch please! All you've got is a Scarlett O'Hara thing, and you got that from Gigi!"

"Oh, hush it you two, I've got both your asses beat, and that skinny-ass grandmamma of yours too- Oh, my, Miss Wayne. Isn't that right?" Whirling on her heel, Del could only blink up at the older woman she had seen in the driveway. But now there were a couple of girls staring from behind her, their eyes as wide as a deer's. They looked older than her, maybe closer to an age between Barbra and her mother than her own.

"Oh-"

"It's not Saturday, send her away."

"Oh, come now, Mama, she's -"

"Do _not_ make me repeat myself, Beau Devereux. Get rid of her."

As the the last echoing tremor finally slid from the air, Del felt her gut fall to her feet. What was she supposed to do now? Run for the door? Pretend this never happened, or that it didn't feel like she had been stabbed in the chest?

Del could feel someone's fingers curling into the sleeve of her coat. "Let's go. We've wasted enough time."

"Just a moment. Please..." Damian's fingers may have fallen from her arm, but not even Beau's voice could erase the look of disdain that had soured his face. Even as the man came to fill the space beside her, he was still glowering. "Gigi's still wrapped up in her meeting…I'm sure you know how that can be."

"I heard her clearly. I've only waited sixteen years…what's a few more days?" Del could only hear the stifled gasps from behind her; it was enough to get the man to turn to the small collection of onlookers.

"Not today girls, now go on." The words weren't unkind, but there was a certain firmness hiding in his tone.

"I think she's got more sass than the two of you, now what do you say to that?" The old maid teased.

"Cousins. You'll have to excuse them." But as the girl scanned the pictures again, she found his words sliding from one ear and out the other. There, smiling back at her with her dark hair fallen all around her, and her hands held out was her mother. But what was that wrapped around her hands? A snake?

"I see you found your mama." The man said gently, plucking the frame off the wall. "That's back when Paige worked with the venom response team." _Venom response team? Mom?!_ Watching the girl go ashen, or how the young boy with her only peered intently over her arm, he reached for another photo. "I take it you didn't know?" He asked, showing her the photo of a much smaller version of her mother posed with another young freckle faced girl. "That's your mama of course and that little thing is my Ava. This was taken maybe a couple days before she died." He said gently. "We were camping and the kids decided to go off on their own. We thought nothing of it, really. We'd been in that area so many times before." The words seemed more for him rather than the ears of the Wayne children. "Ava slipped during one of their hikes… tumbled into a rattlesnake den. She was bitten a little over a dozen times."

"Rattle snake bites are rarely fatal."

"_Damian_."

"No, no. He's right. If the bites are treated right away, that's usually the case. We were in such a remote location…help came too late." He said softly, his blunt fingers rubbing the frame. "It was just a freak accident with the right circumstances. Ava and Paige were always joined to the hip, but after that…I think it inspired your mama. She didn't want to see it happen to anyone else. She interned with them during her med school years…and then she just suddenly stopped. She never did say why, I think she was too embarrassed or ashamed to say. Especially to me." He said, setting the frame on top of the one in Delilah's hands. "You take those, Little Bit."

"Gigi won't mind?"

"Hell, that old dragon won't even notice, and if she does it'll be too late now wouldn't it?"

"Really now, what do you care-"

"I'm just saying he was being nosy as hell-"

"Oh, stop sniveling and leave that insignificant whelp to me."

Twisting their heads to the sound of the voices floating off the stairs, Del froze watching a thin wraith of a woman pause at the top. Her sharp eyes looked her up and down as if she were appraising a statue. Suddenly the woman's gray head snapped toward the hall as if whoever was with her was about to reach the stairs. Del had barely caught the flick of her wrinkled hand when Beau literally shoved the siblings out the front door without so much as a word.

"What the hell was that?"

Feeling the cold wrap around her, Delilah could only stare. "I-I don't know." She muttered, blinking at the bright red door that had just slammed in their faces. "I think you're right." She sighed, clutching the frames in her hands to her chest. "We've wasted enough time." But even as the Wayne children started back down the road, Del found herself still thinking about the Devereux clan. Just who was the dragon lady with? And why didn't she want to be caught with the Wayne children in her foyer?


	22. November 12th: Part Two

**A/N:** Another chapter! A lot of lighter moments in this one. (sort of.) A bit of this will be tying into the sequel. I guess it'll even out because the next few chapters are going to be crazy. Jason, Joker, mayhem...so on and so forth.

* * *

If Delilah was worried about how the events of the day were unfolding, she had a strange way of showing it. Navigating the walkways that were lined with people in their oversized coats and hats, Damian Wayne locked his fingers behind his back as his sister all but dragged him through the Gotham Animal Park with a stupid smile on her face. She sure bounced back quickly.

"That's Yuri, the resident Siberian tiger." She said squeezing along the banister with all the children who were gleefully pointing at the graceful cat who was simply laying there in the snow, staring up at them as if they were nothing more than a nuisance.

"Very…quiet." The boy said drolly, he eyes sliding to the children around them that were attempting to get the cat to roar. But his sister simply propped her arms on the ledge, and started to make a strange soft sound, like an exhale and a roll of the tongue all at once. "What the hell are you doing?" No sooner had the words come sliding out the boy's mouth in a thin vale of fog did the tiger's round ears seem to perk. His lazy amber eyes opened and something similar started to come out of the animal. It was nothing more than a soft rumble of air.

It was enough to make Del's lips split into a wider smile. "Just saying hello. But Yuri's even more vocal with Margo, the park owner. When she does it, he'll get up and walk to the edge of his enclosure. He doesn't do that with anyone else." _Except for Selina Kyle._

"And how did this Margo end up with all these animals?" Damian wanted to know as the turned back toward the main thoroughfare.

"A lot of them were seized by the police. She takes in the exotic animals that the GCPD finds during busts. Drug dealers, black market exotics, cruelty cases—you name it. Gotham Zoo hardly ever has the space for them. If Margo didn't have this place these animals would've been euthanized." In a few short steps, the girl realized she was suddenly without her brother's shadow. He was just standing there with a strange look on his face. "Mind yourself…"

At her warning the boy felt a gentle tug on his coat. There was a capuchin reaching its grubby little paw into his pocket. "Hey!" The monkey darted, dragging out headphones in his wake.

"Momo!" The primate scaled up from Delilah's boot to her shoulder. "How did you get out, you little sneak?" She asked, her ungloved fingers digging into the breast pocket of her shirt. "Look what I've got. I'll make you a trade." She said showing the little thief something that looked like a cookie. The monkey automatically held out his empty hand. "Ah, give Damian back his headphones first." The second Damian held out his hand, the primate let them fall. He snatched the cookie from Del's fingers and leapt of her shoulder and into the crowd with his spoils.

"So, how much do you know about falconry?" She prodded as they watched the fur ball scamper through the snow dusted walkways like he owned the place.

"My time was used for more practical things." He sniffed. "Are you going to tell me you actually know something about it?" The second her bell like laugh skipped into the air, the child felt his lips falling. "What's so funny?"

"I just never thought I'd have to teach _you_ how to do something. That's what I do here. I help Margo with the birds. Most of them come to her with injuries, and when they're healthy, we release them. You're not the most patient person in the world, but I think you'll manage. You might even _like_ it."

"You know what I'd like? I'd like to stab you."

* * *

The sun had made the snow covered ground seem to gleam, and somehow the brilliant light did nothing to stave off the bitter wind. It had turned the tips of his ears to the color of blood, even with his hood pulled over his head. There was certainly an annoying ache crawling through his ears, and yet the boy couldn't think over the pin prick of claws on his gloves. "All you're going to do is pop her in the air, not hard. Just enough that she has to use her bad wing a little." Even though he could see the wisps of his sister's breath climbing into the sapphire sky, Damian found himself blinking at the small hawk that was nervously perched in his gloved hands.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see a small crowd building along the wooden railings that traveled the park. People were pressing in just to get a glimpse of the small speckled hawk. "Just pretend they're not even here. She has no problem doing that, trust me." Feeling Del's hands under his, the boy had to fight not to rip his hands away. _Just what the hell does she think she was doing? _"I'm just going to show you how much force to use, and then you'll try it on your own." True to her words her hands lifted up with his, it wasn't a very hard thrust, but enough to get the hawk to spread her wings into the sky and then flap safely back down to the safety of his fingers. Del let her hands fall, as she watched the boy push the bird back into the air just as smoothly as before. "Perfect. I thought you might have a knack for this."

"_Tch_. I'm good at everything I do."

"Well, excuse me." The girl thought to retort further, and yet watching him look up at that hawk with that triumphant face she could do nothing but shake her as she turned to retrieve a bird of her own.

"Are you taking out that big creature?" He asked, not taking his eyes off the little kestrel for a second.

"Atticus?" She asked, glancing at the dark yellow eyes that were peering at them from another aviary. "Maybe when these two are tuckered out. He's a different ball of wax."

"He's a challenge then?"

Del only tilted her head to the sky, preparing her gloved hands for the talons of the little hawk that was sinking back down to the earth. "For you? Yes. Me? No." She had said the words with such certainty it was almost annoying.

"I doubt it."

But the girl only smiled to the clouds above their headsletting the silence fill with the soft flutter of bird wings. Even if she hadn't spoken at all, he could read her loud and clear. _You'll see._

By the time the sky had choked out the sun with thickening clouds of the snow to come, Damian began to pick out familiar faces leaning against the fence, though he wasn't sure if he cared for the way Timothy Drake was staring at his sister. He couldn't help but smirk when Grayson weaseled in beside the wretch only to put a fist into his arm. _We agree on something. _Not that he'd ever tell that knucklehead.

Feeling his hood being pulled from his head, Damian could help but shoot a glare over his shoulder. "Let's put her up, she's had enough." Del said to him. Of course she had no idea how damn lucky it was that his hands were full. No one touched his hood! No one! But as her gloved fingers cupped his frozen ears, the child could feel the sneer sliding from his face. With only an upward glance, he could see the long strands of Del's hair sliding from her black woolen cap. Without so much as a word, she pulled the thing over his head, tugging the edges over his aching ears. "Wear a hat next time, Dummy." She said, flicking his hood back over his head before wandering her way back into the open aviary. The boy just stood there in the snow. There was a part of him that wanted to rip that stupid hat off his head, and yet it was a relief. Not quite sure what to do, the youngest Wayne settled for a glower as he followed her. His sister was a peculiar creature.

* * *

"Atticus?" The name rolled off his tongue, summoning a sideways glance from the girl as she lifted her arm to let her hawk hop back onto its perch. "If you can handle him, so can I."

"Okay…" The word came out long and lilting with just a touch of doubt. "Just don't say I didn't warn you." But as Damian and Del crossed the large field to the next giant bird cage, all her teasing and playful nature seemed to slip to the wayside. "Don't do what I _do_. Do exactly as I _tell_ you." Well now wasn't this curious? Without giving him a chance to make a reply, she handed him a long line with a clip. "Lets him fly a longer distance without getting away from you."

"Where's yours?" He asked, watching the massive bird perk up as the narrow door came open.

Without comment Del slipped inside, shutting the door behind her before the boy could follow. She simply held up her glove, not even hesitating under the golden eagle's shadow. He could hear her soft voice sliding out, but the noise was so low it was barely audible, but the eagle seemed to settle under the soft notes. "You're not going to be testy today, are you?" She crooned, sliding back into the open. "I'm going to let him stretch first, and then I'll let you try."

Stepping into the faint beams of light she had the boy pause. "Hold out your arms."

"What does this have to do with anything?" he grumbled, as he stared down at his shadow trying to pay no mind to the soft murmur of the crowd. Behind him he could hear the sound of feathers unfurling, and suddenly there was the faint silhouette of wings blocking out his shadow. The bird's wingspan was longer than his own arms.

"Look how big it is, Mama!"

"How big is his wingspan, Del?" Damian let his arms fall to his sides the moment he recognized that irritating voice. Didn't that kid have a life somewhere else?!

"About seven and a half feet." Seeing the bird's shadow rise on the snow, Damian lifted his head just in time to see the creature glide through the air, only to circle back on his massive wings right back to Del's hand. The girl was grinning but he couldn't tell if that was because of Atticus…or Tim. "Damian take the clip on the end of that leash, and clip it to the metal band right there on his leg." She said gently between her cooing. "Nice and slow."

With steady hands, Damian reached under the eagle, knowing full well his sharp yellow eyes were watching his every move. No sooner had his cold fingers pulled the metal plunger of the clip down Did the bird raise his head. The meat clutched in the girl's fingers was all but forgotten. The next thing he knew, the eagle puffed himself up and began to rear his head back. His eye's caught the flash of his talons just before Del slung her free arm over his head, forcing the eagle to latch onto her arm rather than his head. "Shit. You're gonna be grouchy, aren't you?" He heard his sister hiss.

"I say…are you sure…" _Pennyworth._

"As long as he's with Del, it'll be fine. But if it were anyone else? No. I wouldn't even let the kid try. That bird's old and cranky. He doesn't even like _me_ half the time, and he's been with me almost seventeen years."

Damian tried to tune out the voices as he let his eyes fall back on the bird who was settling back on Del's arm. "You good?" She asked, clipping the line to the bird herself before handing the end to him. With a lift of her hand she sent the eagle back into the air, letting his shadow speed along the frozen ground. "Arm up."

No sooner had he put his gloved hand into the air did Atticus dive for the ground, opening his talons just like before. So certain the creature was going to have another go at him, he ducked, dropping his hand to protect his head. It was enough to force Del to shove her hand out.

"It's okay; he was just getting ready to land." She whispered, watching the color drain from his face. "You don't know his body langue yet. That comes in time. Ready to try again?" He looked so disappointed, but in the space of a breath that stoic face was back in place.

Damian Wayne simply straightened himself out and stared at the bird on his sister's arm. "Yes." At the word Delilah sent the bird back into the air, but as the creature stretched and soared, the thin lead in his hand suddenly became slack. Instead of circling back Atticus went straight for the crowd, as if he knew the line had broken and there was nothing the boy could do about it.

To her credit his sister did curse or even panic. "If he lands near you," she stated to the crowd, "please don't reach for him. Don't try to pet him. I'll come get him. If he lands_ on_ you, just be nice and calm." Without wasting any time, she left him standing there as she followed the eagle's path. For a moment he was sure the eagle would perch on one of the tall pines along the walkway when suddenly a leather glove reached up into the air from the crowd.

Del felt the breath rush out of her as she slipped through the small throng, watching Atticus' shadow lower onto someone's outstretched arm. Spying a familiar face the girl paused right there in the walkway as the bird settled himself on her uncle's arm. "Are you following me?" she mouthed, but only a small smile worked its way to the man's mouth as he sent the Atticus gliding to her. "Where's the vet's office?"

Taken aback by the simple words, the Delilah blinked, aware that there was a bird box by the man's feet. "Follow this path to the intersection, take a right." She murmured, feeling Atticus' weight shift on her hand. Not wanting to draw attention to the man she turned away. "Ready?" The second Damian put his hand out Atticus was off, damn near dwarfing the boy as he gripped onto him, sending the small crowd into a round of applause.

"She taught you well." When the girl finally turned around, the man was already disappearing down the pathway. How long had he been there?

* * *

Crouching in the snow under Atticus' hovering shadow, Delilah watched carefully as the Damian slowly won the massive bird over. But in the graying light, she could see something else happening. He looked like a child, even if the moment was fleeting. For just this moment he was only a kid—a kid who seemed extremely pleased with himself. He even looked…reachable.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" He grunted, letting his piercing green eyes fall on her as he sent Atticus back to claim the sky. But Del only grabbed the edges of her coat and pulled them closer around her as the wind swirled through the snow around them. It was almost breathtaking—literally.

The girl pulled herself from her haunches, fingers groping for her inhaler as she watched Atticus' dim shadow glide along the snow, diving and twisting like the wind. "Like what?" She asked, paying no attention as he watched the inhaler slip from her mouth, back into her hand and right back into her pocket.

"Never mind." He muttered, twisting his head to watch for the eagle. "He obeys me now." Oh, wait, that translated to – _See? I told you so! _But the girl only let her lips pull into a half smile, watching him signal the bird back as she started for the aviary. The bird swooped right over his head and strait to his sister's waiting glove. _Touché._

Leaning against the aviary door, Damian could feel the cold metal pressing into his side as he watched his sister's bare fingers slip through the soft edges of the eagle's feathers. Hadn't she warned him against petting the creature? It certainly wasn't like Atticus minded her preening him; his eyes were closed as if he enjoyed it. "How do you do that?" he asked, watching her set the eagle on the nearest perch. But the girl only shrugged as she slipped out of the aviary.

"Hey, by the way, you did really well. I'm sure you'll do even better next time."

"Next time? Who said there was going to be a next time?"

_Geez, this kid_. Damian Wayne may not have been people friendly. But animals? Animals were another story entirely. She'd seen that for herself, but would say nothing more as Dick yanked the kid by the neck with his arm.

"You did good, Kid."

"It's _well_, you idiot. I did _well_. Now get your arm off me or lose it."

"A grouch and a grammar Nazi." Dick muttered, letting Damian duck out from under his arm.

"I'm in a rare mood, if you must know."

"If this is you on a good day, I weep for humanity."

Damian's mouth opened, but before he could work out the words, the knucklehead was throwing his arms around Del. "Hey, Birthday Girl!"

"Hey, Dork."

"Damn, you're mean too! I think he's rubbing off on you."

"Shut up and hug me." Del grumbled, squeezing him back, all the while she could feel someone's hand slipping into her pocket. Only when she broke from Dick did she find Alfred, rolling her inhaler in his hand without so much as a word he let it slip back into her pocket with none the wiser.

"So…Birthday Girl, what'd ya say to some lunch at Mama Lu's?' At the name of their favorite greasy spoon, the girl couldn't help but smirk. But the smirk slid a little when she felt his hands cupping over her ears. "Where's your hat, Dork?" Without another word, he slipped his own cap from his head and tugged it over hers.

"Darn you."

"Zip it. That's what a sibling does. I thought you knew that by now?"

* * *

"So how did you end up volunteering there anyway?" It hadn't taken much to drag Tim into their madness. Though it probably helped that Jack Drake threatened to beat him with his cane if he didn't. But as the girl peeled her eyes from the misty gray sky out the window, she caught Dick staring at them in the review mirror.

"She skipped out on Alfred when she was like what? Seven?"

"Yeah, somewhere around there." She murmured, watching the flakes of snow slide across the windows as they fell to the earth. "Me and mom used to go there…not that remember much of it."

"Doesn't seem that far from the house."

"_Pfft_. Maybe by car. On foot it's another story entirely. Al just about lost his marbles looking for her little ass."

"I guess Atticus got out, because I found him, and then Margo found me."

"Margo just about had a heart attack. _Twice_." Dick put in. "First she finds this strange kid petting on that bird like he's a pet. _She_ can't even do that. And then here comes billionaire Bruce to collect said kid."

"Oh, he was so fucking mad at me." Del said bluntly, smearing the fog off the window with her sleeve, sure she could feel Tim's eyes on the back of her neck as she stared out into the world that was slowly going white.

"Eh, he was mad at you for how upset you made Alfred."

"He's the one who came for you? Not Alfred?"

"Yeah…" she whispered, watching the sidewalk slither by. It was almost like a ghost town, say for a certain form that was starting to catch her eye.

"Weird, like the park I bet-"

"Dick, stop the car."

"Huh?"

"Stop the car. Stop!" The car had had just started to pull along the curb when the girl shoved the door open and hopped out, paying no mind to Dick's ranting curses as the wind smacked her in the face. Her eyes were on the girl they had just passed. A girl who was trudging through the snow with her coat open, and her gloves dangling, if she knew her hands and face were the color of blood, she didn't show it. "Sam!"

The girl barely bobbed her head, her face run with tear marks, glasses dusted with flurries. "Del?" The word ached all the way out of her throat, and before she could utter so much as a sound, the world was blurring again. Tears felt awfully strange on numb cheeks. Her lungs had barely begun to take in their next breath when she felt the cool slick texture of a leather coat against her cheek. When she opened her mouth she fully expected words to come out, and yet nothing but a sob fell into the air. Then there was another…and another. It didn't matter how hard she fought to hold them in, they were bellowing out anyway. Before she knew it the world had fallen, her knees where on something hard like concrete. And here was Delilah Wayne, the heiress, holding her up, letting her cry until she had nothing left. "Oh, fuck…I'm sorry." The girl blurted when her vision cleared enough to see that there was a car, and a concerned Dick Grayson standing outside of it.

"You freaking freezing, Chick. Where were you going?"

"Barb's…"

"From here?! From the Suburbs?! C'mon, in the car."

"No-no!"

"If we let you walk there, she'd kill us. I mean…she knows where we live." Del quipped, winning a strangled sound that could almost pass for a laugh as she helped Sam to her feet. With a bit of musical chairs, she squeezed the girl in the backseat between Damian and herself. The car rode in complete silence, say for the sound of Sam's sniffling.

"Alright, time to spill the beans, what's wrong?" Del asked, watching Tim turn around in the front seat to hand her that handkerchief of his.

"Anyone got a piece of paper?" She croaked

"Glovebox."

Del watched curiously as the pen trembled across the pit of notebook paper, leaving big thick lines spreading across the page. **Family. **Without so much as a word, the girl simply lifted the sheet up and began tearing it in half. Only when she made those pieces into confetti did she sink back into the seat.

"Ever since I got my transplant, my parents have done nothing but fight." She uttered, trying not to pay attention to the crest fallen look in the girl's face, or the way that Dick was watching her in that review mirror.

_If she hadn't—if I had just…_"Sam, I'm sor-"

"No, it's nothing you did. It just gave them the excuse they needed to set off the powder keg. Dad slips into his bottles and Mom…just shuts down. They used to do this when I was little." She said it so casually that it almost didn't sound like it had really came out of her at all. "Back in Chicago, Dad used to drink himself stupid, and if my mom wasn't egging him on, she was taking off. I was lucky that my Grandpa lived next door."

Sam stared at the pile of paper in her hand. "I'd sneak over to his house when shit would start to hit the fan. I don't remember, but there was this one time that I guess I had tried to go to Grandpa's. He wasn't home. It was a good thing it was in the Summer because as the story goes, when Gramps got home that night…he found me sleeping on the porch. He flipped his lid. I mean, they didn't even know I was gone." She managed, feeling her lips pulling into a smile. _Smiling? Are my eyes that tired of crying?_

"So for a while, they had this grouchy old Irishman keeping them in line. Dad went to AA and sobered up. Mom saw a shrink. They had counseling. It was working sort of. I mean you could sometimes tell there was tension…" The girl just shrugged. "Jordon doesn't understand at all. He wasn't around during all that. And I know they want me to pick sides…but I can't. I _won't_. And it just makes them mad at me. It's like they don't even fucking care that we're caught in the middle. And the only time they do, it's so they can stick it to each other. Mom took Jordon to Uncle Jim's. You should've seen his face when I refused to go with them. You would've though I betrayed him or something." Sam stopped, to smudge her face with the sleeve of her coat. "I'd rather hide at Barb's—take myself out of the equation completely and let them have at it."

"I wish you would've told me!"

"Well, you were busy not being my friend." Sam grumbled, her tingling fingers digging into her pocket, pulling out a small gold box she threw it on Del's lap. "But I know why now, so you're taking those back, Bitch."

Del stared at the little charms inside. "You sure-"

"I didn't stutter." Sam cried, glancing at Damian when she felt his fingers digging into her palm. Without a word he fisted his fingers around the pile of shredded paper, rolled down the window and threw them into the wind as if they were nothing more than bits of snow. "I think I might like that kid." But the boy said nothing. He just stared out the window watching the snow fall to the ground like paper.

* * *

There was something strange about watching the four of them, the way their faces would break into smiles or one of them would tilt back a head to let a laugh billow out…like it was normal to be that damn happy. Somewhere between food and the banter, they had ended up here, a place where a handful of somewhat familiar faces were waiting. Barbra, Fox and his daughter, Pennyworth, Father, even Sissy and her aunt Miss Maddox—all these people had been waiting for his sister. They were even happy to see her. When the last time was someone was actually happy to see the likes of him?

He could've enjoyed seeing Drake make a complete fool of himself, since the kid couldn't stay upright on a pair of ice skates to save his dumb ass. But Damian couldn't keep his eyes from the sky. Soon…soon this pale white light would be swallowed whole by the darkness. The devouring of the day couldn't come fast enough.

"Damian." The boy ripped his eyes from the dimming atmosphere only to see his sister skid to a stop. "Come on. Why don't you join us?"

"No."

"Why not? Do you know how to skate?"

"I don't see how that's any of is your business." He sniffed, as if he wanted to look like a fool in front of all these people.

"I bet you'd catch on quick."

"I said no! Now go away, you twit." No sooner had the words slipped from his mouth did he catch sight of a small gloved hand reaching over the barrier, wiggling a pink finger at him. Del simply looked down with that stupid smiling face.

"The wall's taller than you are." She teased, reaching down to let a blonde haired little girl cling onto the wall. "If you can do it, he can do it, right?" Annabel Collins' little head simply nodded, still trying to beckon him over with her hand. But when the boy simply shook his head, the child put her hand to her chest, letting it scrape over her coat as it circled, Damian felt his lungs shove all the air in his chest out in a heaving sigh, he splayed his hand and moved it out from his chest. "Fine. But only because she said please." He grumbled, shaking off the snow as he slid from the bench.

"You know sign language?!" She called after him. But the kid did nothing more than fist his hand, put it in the air and sign for yes. "Huh, he's just full of surprises, isn't he?"

Did she know he could hear her? _Tch. Whatever. _Gah, she _was_ a twit. But as Damian sat down to work off his shoes and put on his skates, he often found himself sidetracked by the laugh the twit made. Like her it was a peculiar sound. How did she manage to do that? How could she let go of everything long enough to be that…happy? It didn't even matter that it was all going to end the moment that annoyingly bright star sank below the earth.

The black laces of the skates sat still in his hands as he watched the girl outstretch her hands to the fallen Drake. "You skate just about as well as you dance." She teased, gliding back a little as he worked his himself back to his feet.

"I never said I was good at it." He managed, not seeming to mind that he was soaked through, or that Delilah had him by his hands. Come to think of it, they were both a little red in the face. "So if I go down, you're going down with me."

"You've certainly had plenty of practice on how to take a fall."

"Burn!"

"_Dick!"_

But the man only flashed them a simpering face as he and Barbra's chair slid right by them. "She's not as nice as she looks, Timmy Boy. She's got some bite."

"Of course, he'd know what a burn feels like." Del jested, but that only made a laugh spill out of the redhead in the wheelchair.

"And yet he still can't take a hint. He hasn't learned a thing. Have ya, Bird Brain?"

"I could, but where's the fun in that? Besides you'd miss this charming face."

"I'd miss you like an idiot misses the point."

"_And_… she got me."

"Don't believe her for a second." Sam quipped as she slid around them in wide circles. "She'd miss your stupid face."

"See? Even your cousin-hey wait a minute!"

Damian could only shake his head…these people. He had gotten so preoccupied with watching the bunch, that he hardly noticed the bundle of pink with her blonde ponytail sticking out the back of her snow cap. _You came to my dance. I saw you. Thank you. _She signed. Wait…then she knew…who they were? How?! But Damian forced his frozen fingers to move as he eyed his sister. Surely it had something to do with her.

_Who told you? _ The girl's little smile slipped from her face as she realized he wasn't as tickled by the idea as she was. His eyes were hard, and his mouth with grim. Was he mad?

_None of your business._

"You listen to me," he growled, well aware that his sister was closing the gap as his fingers fisted in the girl's jacket. "Don't you breathe a word-"

"Damian, let her go, you're scaring her."

"You told her, didn't you?" Damian took a moment to leer at Del, but no sooner had he done so, did he feel the little girl knocking his hands away. The second she was free she slid behind Del.

"I didn't tell her anything. She figured out it was me the night we had to find her, she knows who you are by process of elimination." The girl said with a roll of her eyes as poked him in the forehead with her finger. "Did you really tell a girl who doesn't speak not to breathe a word?"

"I know she can speak." He snapped, watching the child stick her tongue out at him from around his sister's pant leg. "Oh, grow up."

_I'm a child. I don't have to. You're a child too._

"Big baby is more like." Without another word, Del grabbed Damian by the arm and slung him into the ice rink. "Go have fun, you big baby." She said to him, just before his wobbly legs sent him crashing onto his butt.

Damn her! Feeling the dampness of the ice soaking through his gloves, Damian had just begun to crawl to his knees, when he saw Del's skates slice into the ice. "Why do we fall down?"

"What kind of question is that?!" He snapped, his breath heaving out of him in ragged clouds as he made it back onto his unsteady feet. But no sooner had he gotten himself upright again, did his sister sweep his blades out from under him.

"Why do we fall down?"

"You're starting to get on my nerves."

"Oh, I'm _so_ scared. Answer the question."

"I don't know!" He shot out as he climbed back to his feet only for her to knock him down again. What? Was this some kind of childish payback? Father was watching, but why wouldn't he say anything? This time she let him get back up to his feet completely.

"So you learn how to get back up. Your feet are too close together, make them about a shoulder width apart." She could see that glare on his face, but didn't say another word until he moved his skates. "You have inside blades, and outside blades, to get started; you're going to lean on the inside of your skates."

"I wish I could stab you right now."

"Shut up and listen. To glide, you're going to put all your weight on one foot, and push off from the side with the other." Why was she being this way? She hadn't been like this all day long; he could only watch her with curiosity as she slid around him. "And then you're just going to bring that other foot back in. Try it."

"How do I stop?"

"You'll figure that out on your own, now go." What the? When he didn't move immediately, Damian felt his sister's hand giving him a little shove. It took him a wobbly second but he did just as she said, as he tried to balance himself out. "Good. Straighten your chest up as you're going through. Nice."

"Why do you like this?" He murmured, barely glancing at her shadow, as he focused on shoving himself off with his foot.

"Because, once you get the hang of it-it's almost like flying." She said, stretching her arms out as she twirled around him. Suddenly she was in front of him, and before he could stop himself, she grabbed him by the front of his coat; she didn't lose balance, not even for a second. "Don't ever do that to her again. She's just a little girl."

"Warning me, Sister?"

"Simply telling you, Little Brother." She said as she let him go. "She looks up to you, you know? She was happy that Robin came to watch her dance. That _you_ came to watch her dance."

"I didn't ask-"

"That's the funny thing; you don't get to decide who likes you. Now I'm not telling you to apologize, that'd be a waste of breath. But give the kid more credit; seriously, she's brighter than you think. Her taste in people…eh...it's a little questionable…but maybe she see's something in you that we haven't yet."

* * *

The sky seemed to grow darker with each passing second. And then…and then he'd be free to roam the city. He'd be free to give the assassins something to fear. After all, Gotham would be left to him one day. He'd gotten so lost in the shadows that he didn't feel her fingers until she started tugging on his arm.

"What?" The blonde thing simply pointed across the rink where everyone seemed to be bunched together, the warmth of their breath ballooning into the air in a giant cloud. Feeling his shoulders sag, he let the girl pull him across the rink, still unsure of what the fuss was, until he spotted a robin sitting in his sister's palm, eating crumbs of birthday cake like it was nothing at all.

"I don't know how she does that." Dick murmured.

"I've seen her do it before." Their father put in, resting his chin in his hand as he watched the bird crawl up the sleeve of his daughter's coat. "But I still can't figure out how she does it either."

"Sorry guys, I don't know how to explain it. I just do it." Del said gently as she turned about. "Damian, hand out." Sissy's fingers slid from the boy's glove as the boy held out his hand, so unsure of what she was up to. "Keep your hand relaxed no matter what." She whispered, setting her bare hand over his glove.

Before he could utter a sound, he could feel the pinprick of tiny claws as the creature ran from his palm up his arm only to take off from his shoulder. "Th-that was a wild bird, right?"

"Yeah."

"How come I've only seen you do that with robins?" Dick asked as he leaned on the back of Barbra's chair.

"Because blue jays are too pissy and sparrows are too shy. Or maybe I just really like robins."

Out of the corner of his eye, Damian could see young Annabel Collin's slipping out the exit. He watched her for a moment as she slid off her skates only to jam her feet back into her shoes. He thought nothing of it, until the girl started heading for the innards of the plaza rather than making it to her aunt's side. Like she was chasing after something…

"What is that girl—Annabel!"

"I'll get her." The words were coming out all on their own, and before Damian could decide against it, he found himself sliding for the exit too. Staring into the crowd he watched the blonde head disappear into an ally as he ripped the skates off pulled his boots on.

"Ana!" The boy had just begun to push his way through the foot traffic, when the blood curdling scream rose over the bustle. "Ana!" He found the girl, shaking in the shadows of the alley, blood rolling down her hands from the gray marked cat she had clutched to her chest. "What the hell is you're problem?!" but the girl only pointed, leading the boy's eyes to a soft shape in the murky snow that had built up along the wall. A body.

Pushing her back, he wandered closer, listening to the sound of rushing feet as they closed in. "Oh, God. Is that—"

"It's a girl…" He said slowly, barely making out her pale face through the snow. Just what had her wide eyes seen? Damian tucked his head, as his father's hand gripped on his shoulder, pulling him back. Had it not been for her outstretched arm, no one would've known she was there…not until the snow melted.

"I'll call the police."

"Jesus, she doesn't look like she's more than eleven years old." He heard Del murmur.

"What's on her arm?"

At the words Damian found himself staring down at the pale white arm, pale say for the burn marks that seemed to scar her flesh. Were they only a few days old? Circles…small circles. Nine of them to be exact. "The nine circles of hell…"

"Circles?" The question was a faint one, before it gave to the sound of vomit splashing onto the icy pavement. Miss Maddox was on her knees, her fingers digging into the concrete as she trembled under Alfred's gentle hand. She could barely hold her head up as she continued to heave.

Grabbing the girl's hand, Damian realized she was shaking. It's just a dead body. But the boy pulled from his father's grasp as the girl worked her little hand from his and proceeded to put down the cat and pull off her coat. "She can't feel anything, Anabel. She's-" But as the girl began to roll up her sleeve he could see what had caused the panic. Circles had been burned into the girl's arm. But unlike the poor wretch before them, Anabel's were incomplete.

The girl's fingers moved fast through. _She's like me. She's like me. She's like me. _ The panicked motions only stopped when Bruce Wayne grabbed the girl himself, forcing them both into the light on the street.

"What'd she say?" Del could hardly register Tim's whisper. "That they're the same… " She croaked, unsure of how to make the knot in her throat disappear. It was almost surreal, seeing this frozen child laying here in the alley. Had it not been for the feel of Tim's hand, she may have let herself believe it was all one big nightmare.

"Now do you understand why we have to leave this city?"

* * *

"From what Barb told me, it's a human trafficking ring. GCPD's been following them for years." She should've been happy to be curled up on the couch. It'd been so long since she actually had a girl's night, and yet, through the glow of the movie that blurred soundlessly through her study, she could only stare out the window.

"St. James was taking her somewhere when I found them. He was running with her. But I can't see how he…It just doesn't…"

"Doesn't fit? Are you sure? Think about it Del, what would they have done with _you_ if Batman didn't show up when he did?" God, how many times had she asked herself that?

"I always assumed that they'd kill me...but now?" _I won't know, I won't know until I ask him myself._

"I was sure I'd have to tell you ladies to keep it down by now." Alfred said gently, as he pushed a cart full of trays through the door. "I took Miss Collins and Miss Maddox home myself you know. They're shaken, but they'll be fine." Watching the girl sag like a deflated balloon, the man could only sigh. Oh, she'd certainly learned how to brood from the best of them.

"A black and white was posted by their house, right?" _I should be out there. I should be-_

"Yes, Miss. You should also know that Master Damian is keeping a watch on them himself."

"See? I knew I'd like that kid."

"And may I remind you, that the cave is off limits to you until further notice."

"Did Dad tell you to remind me?" She uttered glumly.

"Indeed he did, he thought you might get a wild hair or something. Now, if I slaved all day on this sponge cake for nothing-" There. There was that wisp of smile.

"You should join us, Alfred."

"No, no. I'll let you ladies gossip amongst yourselves about whatever it is that girl's talk about. Boys, near kisses and such."

"WHAT?! How the hell do you know about _that?! _ She cried as the old man made his way to the door. But Alfred Pennyworth did nothing more than tilt his head to her.

"You're the Bat's daughter, figure it out."

"What the hell is he talking about, huh? Delilah Wayne, you better not be holding out on me!"

* * *

"You and Tim?! I knew it!"

"Excuse me?"

"Chick, I had him pegged even before he asked me for your number." Sam jabbered, watching as Del froze in place, fork and all. Oh? Had the sponge cake become that hard to swallow?

"He-you-_you_ gave him my number?!"

"Well, yeah. I had to help the guy out. I mean, when you stopped coming to school, he started hanging around. You know hanging with me does no favors for anyone's popularity in that joint." Sam said, waving her fork. "You guys are always making faces at each other anyway…like you were having conversations without even talking."

"Gah, between him and Jason…Jesus, just shoot me." The girl groaned, pulling the blanket on her lap over her head.

"What? Don't you like Tim? I think he's good for you—who's Jason?"

_Oh, no. _ Pulling the blanket down, Del forced her lungs swallow the air as she climbed over Jax to shut the open door. Did she want to tell someone? Yes! God, she had never wanted a mother, sister, grandmother…some woman to run to after that point. "I need you to hear me out completely…" She said slowly as she plopped back down on the couch, watching the girl's face fall as she recounted the details about Jason.

"Isn't he the guy that, oh, I don't know, kidnapped me?!" Sam cried, shoving her plate to the nearest coffee table.

"Yeah…that was before I removed the chip they stuck in him. Otherwise, he never would have done that to you."

"Jesus, Del! And he's-"

"Twenty-six."

"That's grown damn man!"

"He certainly doesn't look it! The Lazarus pit not only screwed him up mentally, it regressed his body. He looks like he's not a day over twenty. It's crazy. "

"Yeah well, he acts like it apparently." Sam snipped. "Please tell me you didn't let him kiss you!"

"I didn't…but-"

"But?"

"It didn't stop me from wondering about it."

"_Delilah_!"

"I know! I know! I mean it's weird, it's not like I feel comfortable with the idea. I've _never_ thought about him that way. But I—_fuck_, it's just confusing."

Hearing Samantha sigh, Del peeled her eyes from the scars on her hands. "You're sixteen. It's supposed to be confusing. Maybe he didn't mean it, I mean if the guy was drugged out his gourd like you say-"

"Oh, he was stoned all right. He was being bitchy so I gave him a little extra."

"Remind me to call you next time I end up in the hospital." Sam teased. "Seriously, Del. Maybe he was just being a guy. An immature guy, but a guy none the less."

Maybe she was right. Maybe it was something that just came out of him for no reason at all. But it still didn't take the memory of his lips from the pads of her fingers. It still didn't make that uneasy feeling crawl back into its hole. "Maybe you're right." She murmured, rubbing her hands against the blanket. "I don't even know what to think." She muttered, letting her head lull back. "What a freaking mess."

"You got that right. And what about Tim and this near kiss? You didn't stop him too, did you?"

"Nope. The train did that."

"_Oy vey_. But it didn't make you feel uncomfortable, did it?"

"No. Not until we smacked heads. Now it's just embarrassing. I almost don't know how to act around him now. I mean, I think about it ever freaking time I look at him."

Even in the faint light of the TV she could see that scandalizing smile curling around Sam's face. "No wonder you two were red in the face!" She howled, chucking a pillow in Del's direction.

"And now that I know Dad's been reading my texts-"

Sam fell over into the empty space of the loveseat, the sound of her laugh rising up to the beams above their heads. "Oh, God. Batman's reading your text messages?!"

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up."

"I'm sorry, that would just suck." The words came in bubbles as the laughter ebbed its way into the quiet. "It's funny, you know…how perfect your life looks from the outside. And yet no one has a clue just how crazy it is." Sam murmured, letting her fingers wrap around her still warm cup, as she eyed the girl across from her. The girl who always looked like she had everything in the world. Strange the one thing she didn't have was all that Sam had ever had. A normal life. "So, what's he think about you and Tim?"

"I think he's waiting to see if we can still manage to work together…"

"Can you?"

"I don't know…I hope so. I mean, I haven't been on duty; we have this rotational thing going. Damian and Tim can't get along, and he doesn't want me and Damian by ourselves. The only night that Dick has off is when it's Tim and I on patrol; even then he's still on call."

"Hey…Tim said something to me." The careful words were enough to have Delilah Wayne's full attention, geez what was it about her gaze that made her skin crawl? "About Mr. Collins…that I might have his liver and kidney. Is—is he telling me the truth?"

"I can't believe he opened his big mouth to you like that." Del growled, but watching the girl's dark eyes fall to her hands, she felt her body relax. "When Mr. Collins was found, his eyes, a part of his liver and one of his kidneys were missing. It could be just a weird coincidence that you found a match for both organs right after his death but…"

"But you don't think so… he said something running a test to be sure…but at that point I just—I couldn't listen to him anymore."

"We can run one, but Sam, that's up to you." She said quickly, throwing off the blanket so she could sit on the floor beside Jax.

"Okay…" Sam murmured, watching Del's fingers as she smoothed out the dog's inky black coat. "He almost looks cute." She said suddenly, feeling her muscles tremble as she let herself slide to the floor. "He's not gonna get up if I-"

"Nah, he's too lazy. He might roll over for a belly rub, but that's about it." She said gently, watching the girl stretch out her fingers, but no sooner had she finally made contact, did the dog make a liar out of her, he sprang to his rust colored paws, forcing poor Sam to rip her arm back as he jumped for the door and the three weary bodies that were pushing through. Without a word, Dick hopped over the back of the couch.

"What'cha girl's watching?"

"Has to be something better than what we were watching all night." Tim grunted, slithering his way to the loveseat as he peeled off his cape.

"Sissy?"

"She'll be fine. Catwoman just up and decided to help."

"What?! And you trust her?!

"Not exactly. But Gordon's taking the last shift, I trust _him_."

Hearing the hiss of a cat, Del felt her head snap toward the door, just in time to see Jax jump for the gray and white cat in the crook of Damian's arm. "Down, down you stupid dog."

"Is that…the same cat from the alley?" she asked, watching the cat claw its way over Damian's arm only to leap to the floor. Before the Doberman could even get to it, the feline zipped right under the sofa.

"Bat-cat." Damian stated, watching as Jax pathetically whimpered at the couch. "His name is Alfred."

"Cat's as wild as a March hare." Dick said with a yawn, as he toed off his boots.

"I can socialize him."

"Believe it when I see it."

* * *

The only thing Dick ever saw was the back of his eyelids. "I love how they just plow through and take over." Sam murmured, paying no mind to the chorus of snores and hissing sighs. Sitting with her legs crossed in the floor the only thing she feel was the faint touch of the sun on her shoulder.

Del's face creased with a soundless laugh. Dick was passed out on the couch; Tim was hanging over the loveseat, out like a rock. And Damian? The kid was curled up in the papasan chair with a cat in the crook of his knees and her dog stretched out just below them. "I don't think we'll be sleeping." Del managed as she worked herself up to her feet. "Coffee?"

"You're speaking my language." Sam muttered, as she tried to force the tingling things she called legs to work. But as she did so, she could see Delilah frowning at her phone.

"What's wrong?"

"One of the families from Page for Parents…their house burned down last night." The words came thick as she stared down at the screen. _Any way you can help? _ Before she could even stop herself she sent a response. _Yes. If they can find somewhere to go for the next few hours, I'll have somewhere they can stay. _

"Del? You okay?" Sam asked, seeing the glint of tears marking the girl's cheeks.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." She murmured, "Can..uh…can you help me today?"

"Sure, sure whatever you need." But Del only mopped her face with her sleeve, before reaching for the blanket that had made it into the floor. It left Sam standing there so unsure of what to make of the sudden display.

"I need to empty my mom's house…for real this time." She uttered, letting the blanket fall over Dick.

"Are you sure? That's-"

"They need it more than I do. I-I have to let it go." The words came out so thick they made her throat ache. She could feel Sam's gaze on her back as she kneeled by the loveseat and ever so carefully she peeled the mask away from Tim's face, more than aware that her lungs were holding every bit of her exhale. _Oh, yeah, trying explaining that one if he wakes up!_

"What about him?"

Del felt her shoulders sink as she stared at the boy. "Crap. I can't leave him there." She muttered, feeling her hands slide from her hips. "You grab Alfred the cat and I'll pick up the kid?"

"Yeah and where are we going with Robin and Bat-cat?"

"Put him in my bed I guess. I'm not toting his ass all the way to his room, forget that." She grunted, ignoring the small gray feline's hissing as she worked her hand's under the boy. _He wakes up, he's gonna kill me. _But the thought slithered to nothing more than the feel of his weight in her arms as she slid out from her study and into the hall.

"You just might get the hang of this." Sam teased as she peeled the blankets on the bed back.

"Get the hang of what?"

"The sister thing." She said, helping her peel the boy down to his shirt and leggings.

"Alfred's carried him all the way from the batcave to his bed. I'm just being lazy." Del mumbled, rolling her eyes when Jax hopped right on the bed and settled his head on the boy's side. "Traitor."

"How long would it take?" Delilah had barely slid through the door as Sam's words continued to echo through the hall. "The test I mean…"

"Thirty minutes or so. Are you wanting to…"

"I have to know. I have to know if these organs came from Mr. Collins."


	23. Every Party Needs A Clown: Part 1

**A/N**: Oh my goodness, I've been writing and rewriting this thing since the last update. There's a lot here, and every part has it's own bit to play in the next chapter or two. I'm still not thrilled with some parts but if I kept toying with it, I'd probably never get it posted! I'm sure some of you will be thrilled by the events. :) (And others not so much, but just hold tight.) I hope the sequence isn't too confusing.

* * *

The streets of Gotham were all but covered with the slush of shoe marked snow, evidence that people did indeed reside on these soot choked streets. All the decent people were at home by now. Decent people…like the Cleary family. The thought makes the air thinner, and suddenly there's a weight on my chest that I can't dislodge. I simply crouch along the rooftop, paying no mind to the bits of snow the wind was shoving through the city. _Sam_. Jesus. For just a moment I can't see the steam rising from the streets. I can't see the glow of ancient neon lights or the shimmer of lamp light from the windows. I can only see Sam's face—see it twisting with guilt and horror in the light of the bat-computer. Her new organs did indeed belong to Collins.

I'll be honest; I didn't know how to relate. I can't even fathom what I'd feel knowing that I had the organs of murdered man. That the only way I'd live—was for someone else to die. I could only collect the broken pieces when she fell apart. "I didn't want it to be true…" she had croaked to me, when her body had finally finished emptying her stomach of its contents, and her tears had long since dried on her glasses. "Now what do we do?"

"_We_?"

Sam had always been so shy, so careful around my father, but the moment his voice reached her ears she worked herself to her feet without hesitation. "I'm already in the cave, Boss-man, it's a little too late. " The words came out evenly; I'd even dare to say it was the same no-nonsense tone she used on her own family. It was certainly enough to get the Bat to turn his chair around. "I owe it to the man to help. If he hadn't died…I—I just I owe to him, okay?" Dad just sat there, analyzing her from his fisted hands.

"You have no skills." I could hardly glance in the direction of that yawn filled voice before Sam just shook her head at the boy who was working his way down the stairs, wiping the remnants of his short sleep from his eyes. I couldn't stop the laugh from sputtering out my lips. I guess I hadn't told them much about little ol' Samantha Cleary.

"Boy, just because I can't open a can of whoop-ass like you do, doesn't mean I don't have skills."

Skills indeed. The girl had been on the watch-list since the tender age of seven. She had an identic memory from Hell. I mean, what could we expect from someone who spent most of her waking hours at the keyboard with Barbra? She was like a mini-O.

As if the clock tower knew where my thoughts were wandering, it tolled, pulling me from my memories and back into the rushing winds on the rooftop. I can't help but to pull my cape around me as I listen to the clank of Red Robin's grappling gun.

"You find anything?" He asks, coming to land beside me. I close my eyes, shutting out all the dim lights of Gotham, if only for the space of breath. Fuck, I still can't get this weight to leave me. "I smell chloroform…"

Forcing myself to inhale I can catch the sweet scent of chemical still lingering about my person. "I had to use it to smoke Elliot's study. His dog was in there." I murmur.

"That takes a while…"

What could I tell him? Tommy Elliot had always been kind to me. He was one of the few people who knew about me. I didn't have to hide from him when he popped by the Manor. But those visits became less and less and soon the relationship between my father and his childhood friend was stale.

Glancing from the bare streets I can see Tim sitting there regarding me as he stumbled to find the right words. I knew what he wanted to say, that chloroform takes _too _long. But maybe…maybe I just wanted to give myself to the option to back out. Of course all the nagging suspicions were too loud to let me simply walk away.

"Maybe I should've gone to the Elliot house and you to Gotham Memorial."

"No. I knew the layout, you didn't." I bite my lip the moment the snapping words leave my mouth. "But I didn't find anything useful. He has copies of his patient's records, but it's the same stuff Sam pulled from the database for us." God, my lungs feel like they could be on fire, the oxygen tank in my cowl is empty. I can't tell him that.

"_It's been pretty quiet, you two call it." _

I could only thank my lucky star as I pulled myself from my haunches. Oh, if Dick only knew. "Call if you need us." I croak, trying to shake off the soft blurring edges of my vision. What I can't shake away is Tim and that look on his face; even with the mask I can see that concern building.

"You okay?"

"Did you find anything at Memorial?"

"I found the form with the with Sam's donor information, they have it as a John Doe. And according to the nightshift, they had an EMT rush in with the organs. They thought some wires had been crossed, I mean it was never called in, but he had all the correct information about Sam. There wasn't any time to second guess it, not if they wanted the organs to stay viable."

"So they didn't even know where the organs came from. They just paged Dr. Elliot and prepped for surgery." I want to bend down to make myself breathe, but I only tilt my head back. "We still don't have the right answers." I grumble to the haze filled sky.

"Maybe we're not asking the right questions."

"_He's turning into a fortune cookie."_

"Give me a break, its 4 am." Tim managed with a grunt. "Elliot's going to be at the party tomorrow, right? Maybe we can get a bit of info from him."

"He's gonna wonder why we're prodding." I couldn't help the dry words, or how they seemed to make his shoulders fall. "But maybe we shouldn't be the ones asking…" I add, letting my eyes settle on the alley below, and while I know the shadows are empty, I can still see the wide blue eyes of the dead girl's stare. Jane Doe. How does someone so small slip through the cracks like that? Forcing myself to shake off the sudden memory of her frozen little body, I let my cold fingers fish for the trigger of one of my grappling guns, trying not to wince when Tim's heavy hand falls on my shoulder.

"Hey, we'll figure it out." He murmurs, his words leaping into air in the form of a warm breathy fog, as his own gaze prods the alley. "Are you still going through with visitation?"

God, did I want to sit at a table with Nick St. James? No. Not really, not when I kept seeing myself grabbing the back of his head and smashing it again and again. I wanted to see blood. I wanted him to feel pain. _You're no better than he is. _The nagging of my conscience forces my mouth to fill with the bitter taste of bile, and I have no choice but to swallow it down. "Yes." I don't recognize the sound, half strangled and sore as it rips from me in one hard syllable. Saying nothing more I send my line to the nearest building and leap into the darkness before Red Robin can probe me any further. It's not the meeting with Nick St. James that makes my nerves itch. Somehow coming face to face with the monster inside me worries me more. If I let it free…I know it'll swallow me whole.

* * *

**_Earlier That week… _**

_I'm packing Mom away… _At the thought Delilah couldn't help but let her fingers linger of the strings of the pale blue guitar in front of her, letting the instrument ring out with a twang. The single note made her mouth ache with a smile. How many times had she danced around in her socks to her mother's strumming? Bedhead? Pajamas? Off key? It didn't matter. _We were so happy_. It was just a moment, but wasn't that moment enough?

"Hey, that was the last of it. All that's left-another guitar?"

"Mom's." Del said thickly, dabbing her eyes with the back of her hand before she closed the case. From the soft blur in her vision she could see Sam's face brightening with that half smile as the girl lingered in the doorway.

"Definitely a keeper."

Del could only nod as she worked on getting her heavy tongue to move. "Yeah." She uttered, letting her hands slide down the creases of the leather case. "So what's left?" Oh, she knew the answer and yet her heart wasn't ready. _It's not time. It's not time, I'm not prepared._

"Your Mom's closet." Ready or not, it was time to let it go. Time to let another family make their own memories in these empty rooms. Empty rooms that were far from vacant of her mother's memory.

"I'm such a horrible person." She croaked. "There's a part of me that wants to back out." When Sam's neat brows only knitted together, the girl found the words rushing out of her in painful waves. " All that's left of her is in these boxes! If I leave this house…if I never come back-how much of her am I going to forget?"

"Listen to me, Wayne-Badger. You're not a horrible person just because you want to keep your mother's memory intact. You were told about a family in need and your first instinct was to help them. If your mother had the means, what would she do?"

"The same thing…"

"Alright then, let's go check the closet."

For a long moment, Del could only listen to the sound of their shoes echoing through the hall as they made a beeline for her mother's room for the very last time. "Thanks, Sam."

"Hey, I've had a couple meltdowns in the last twenty-four hours. You're entitled to one yourself." The girl said, stopping at the edge of the mattress to watch the girl as she hesitated at the closet door.

_This is it; this is all that's left._ There, lingering under the scent of mothballs and cedar was the scent of her mother. It was enough to make Delilah scoop up the clothes and bury her face in them. God, it'd been so long…it was almost gone.

"Wow, your mom sure had some nice taste." Sam said gently, as she crept into the space beside her friend, watching her fingers leaf over the fine things still left hanging in the closet.

"Yeah, she'd go to galas for Wayne Enterprises." Del murmured letting the fabric in her hands slide from her fingers. "I'll probably donate most of the clothes. There's a lot of work attire in here. Interviewees might be able to use them."

"Don't want to keep anything?" Sam asked, pushing the hangers back as she spied a couple of high end gown bags hiding in the back of the closet. "What are these?"

"I'll probably take silly things. Her Yale T-shirt. Her boots and her paint spattered flannels and her favorite cotton dress—I-I don't know. Open them."

"Oh, my God. These are…"

Del could only stare at the intricate gowns. Lace, beading. Such small illustrious details. "I've never-"

"I don't think they've ever been worn." Sam gasped, pulling the small tag with the measurements into the light. "Oh, oh, they're going with you." The girl said quickly, carefully pealing the two bags off the railing. "Yes?"

"Yes."

"How the heck did your mom go from being a medical student to wearing stuff like this?" Sam called as she set the gowns aside.

"I don't know the full story, but she and my dad are alike that way. She started getting into all kinds of different degrees. Journalism, marketing, economics, international business—she even had an associate in psychology."

"On top of the medical school? Jesus. Why so many?"

"I think the business stuff was to make her family happy. She really wanted to work with the venom response team. She worked with them during med school…but I don't know what made her stop. I mean she always used to say it was the blood but now…"

Sam seemed frozen in the doorway. "Wait… your mom was on the venom response team and was ultimately killed by venom?" She asked, watching Del's eyes slowly grow larger and larger as the idea began to sink in. "Maybe this goes further back than we know."

* * *

"What's that?"

The simple question was enough to make Bruce pause, his fingers still clasped around the knob as his eyes followed Damian's hand to the bottom of the door. Suddenly the wind was gone and his lungs were straining to inflate. Her nail marks were still on the door. Why didn't she say anything? And how the hell could this child know the difference between the claw mark of an animal and that of a desperate human? Perhaps he didn't want to know. "Only your sister knows." He said gruffly, listening to the soft notes of a piano leak out into the world as he shoved the door open.

Spying his daughter's seated shadow sprawling across the carpet; he came down from the instep. Strange, his feet still knew this house even after all this time. But the thought slipped away as he quietly crossed the space to the piano, trying to ignore how the bitter sweet notes drew up the hair on his arms. The house was full of furniture and yet it felt so empty.

His daughter made no move to look at him as his weight sank on the bench beside her. Her body only continued to sway with the rhythm of the music. When was the last time he'd heard her play? Out of the corner of his eye he could see Damian moving about, and yet he couldn't help but keep his eyes on Del's hands as her fingers unfolded across the puddled keys. A small part of him wanted to reach out and smudge the glossy tear track he could see marking her cheek, and yet his fingers only reached out to turn the page of her music.

It was strange, sitting here in this room beside Del with these sad sweet notes humming around them, it was almost like—like _she_ was there. If he breathed deep enough he was sure he could almost smell her perfume, but instead he only continued to turn to the last page, trying to pretend he couldn't see the sudden teardrops landing at Del's fingers tips.

As the last notes slowly faded from their ears, his daughter only tucked her chin, letting her hands still across the keys. "She's gone." He hadn't expected the words to come out so clearly and yet the girl only blinked the tears out of her eyes, took a breath and pulled the cover back over the keys. "I didn't know you could read music." She said quietly.

"I can read music, I just can't play." He said, giving the girl a small smirking smile. "I'd be lucky if I could get through chopsticks." He added watching her reach for a worn piece of leather that was sitting on top of the piano.

"I found this in the bench, but that's not Mom's handwriting. There's sheet music inside…but it's not finished."

It was enough to have Bruce Wayne peering at the small sticky note. _For Alfred, with love. _"No, that would be Bailey's."

"You mean…my grandmother? Why would she be leaving things for Alfred?"

"It's a little known secret that Alfred Pennyworth and Baily Devereux were quite the item."

"Ah, that's why he knows so much about Mom's family."

"I think you should finish it for him." Hearing Sam speak up from her perch on the ottoman, Bruce set the folder in his daughter's hands.

"I'd hate to make the man cry." Del murmured, rubbing her fingers across the soft leather as she worked herself up from the bench.

"And miss the chance to tell _him_ to keep a stiff upper lip?"

At that Del let a laugh spill out, aware that she could hear Sam uncurling herself from the ottam to answer her phone. "Awe, Dad, that's mean." And yet here she was still laughing.

"I think it would be a nice gesture nonetheless." The man added as he worked himself up from the piano, aware that Damian had pulled the front door open and was back to studying the marks on the door. "Aren't you taking anything with you?" He asked, realizing that nearly everything was still in its place.

"We picked up Sam's car before we came here, so between us and Alfred, we got everything cleared out. Mostly sentimental stuff. Alfred just took the last little bit to the manor for me not too long ago. The only thing I want is this." She said, gently tapping the piano with the flat of her hand. "I know we have one at home…"

"I'll make some calls to have it moved." He said lightly, lifting what looked like an inventory list off the piano top.

"That's for Dotty. So they can figure out what the family's still going to need."

"I'll be there in a few, Jor, don't touch anything." Hearing Sam's prickly words, Del found herself floating away from the piano.

"Sam? Everything okay?" But Samantha only shook her head.

"You girls go, I'll take this and the keys over to Page for Parents after the piano's moved." His daughter only nodded, her lip finding its way beneath her teeth as if she had something more to say. But instead she simply turned for the door, dragging Damian with her.

"C'mon. You're coming with." She stated, ignoring how the boy was twisting her hands this way and that, no doubt tracking the scars that stretched across her palms to reach her fingers.

"And just why do _I_ need to go with you?"

"Because I'm not the only one who has to say goodbye." She said softly, letting the boy's sleeve fall from her fingers as she shut the door behind her for the very last time. "And I'm sure he'd rather do that alone."

* * *

There was something in the way that Sam leaned in the driver's seat deflating like a balloon in the driveway of her parents' house. "Sam, whatever it is, I'm gonna help you."

"You don't have to." The girl said quietly as she squeezed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. Before her mouth could even utter out anything more, Del was already out of the car and shutting the door.

"Damn it." She hissed, paying no mind to the sound of Damian scrambling out of the back seat of her little sedan. "Just don't…please don't judge." She murmured, leading them up the walkway. They hadn't gotten far before a wide eyed Jordan Cleary flung open the door, letting the stench of stale greasy bags, cigarette smoke and alcohol waft out to greet them.

"I tried calling Mom, but she wouldn't answer." He jabbered, letting his vowels hang in the air as Delilah and an unknown boy filed in after his sister. He looked straight at Del. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"She came to help, so shut up and deal." Sam snapped, wrinkling her nose at the odor. "Where is he?"

"Living room."

Del froze in the doorway. Not once in all the times she'd been in the Cleary household had it ever been in this shape. The living room was a wasteland of empty liquor bottles, wads of fast food bags and trays of piled cigarette butts. What alarmed her was the multitude of guns and ammunition lying about.

"You've got to be-"

"Damian, not a single word. Either help, or go sit in the car. They're already embarrassed." Del hissed as she worked her way through the litter and vomit stains to the innards of the living room, watching Jordan as his hand reached out for the glock that was closest to his father.

"Jordan Matthew Cleary, I will beat you senseless."

"Are they loaded?" Del asked, watching the girl pick up the gun her bother was reaching for only to eject a fully loaded magazine. Even though Sam was standing she could see the girl crumbling as she rolled the heavy thing in her hand.

"Yeah…I bet most of them are. Jesus fucking Christ." She said shaking her head. "I thought they'd gotten through this already."

"Jordan, go to the kitchen and grab some trash bags." Del said gently, as she picked up the next gun and went about unloading it. But the boy just stood there frozen to the doorjamb.

"Jordan. Move it." At his sister's command the boy fled in the other direction.

"I think the kid's in shock." Del murmured, watching Damian as he picked up the last gun and unloaded it himself.

"Yeah well, watching your hero hit rock bottom kind of does that." Sam said quietly, glancing over at the man who was passed out of the sofa in his sweat soaked stupor. "I'm just all out of fucks to give." She muttered as she fished around the mess for the lock boxes, more than aware of how quite the Wayne children had been since they entered the house. "Your Dad doesn't drink like the papers claim, does he?"

"Dad doesn't drink at all. He's a complete teetotaler." Del said softly. And looking at this, she was glad for it. She didn't have to drag her babbling drunken father up the stairs. She didn't have to clean up his puke, or pour his half empty bottles down the drain.

"Sam, I'm sorry, I didn't know what else to do. I came to visit Dad and everything was like _this_."

Samantha paused with the half empty bottles in her arms, without warning she threw them to the ground, not even batting an eye as a clamor of glass echoed throughout the room. She simply stepped over the newly filled trash bags and seized the boy by the arms.

"Don't apologize. Don't ever apologize for calling me. I don't care what Mom says or what Dad does. You can call me at any time. I don't care if it's three in the morning. Whatever the problem is, we'll take care of it together. Okay?" When the boy finally nodded, she let her hands fall.

"What do we do now?"

"First we're going to finish cleaning up, and then I'm going to call Gramps."

"WHAT?! Sam! Don't! Don't call him!"

"We don't have any other choice."

"But he's gonna be mad!" the boy spat.

"Mad at them. Not us. Now go check on Dad and make sure he didn't roll over on his back."

Jordon only stood there, dumbfounded. "Why?"

"Because if he throws up again, he'll choke." Sam said with a sigh. Why? Why the fuck did a ten year old kid have to go through this? Why the hell did she? When the kid turned for the stairs, Sam crouched to her haunches too aware of how heavy her head felt in her own hands, or that there was a hand on her shoulder. "He's right. Gramps isn't gonna be happy. He's in Ireland visiting his brother, and if has to cut his trip short because of this shit….fuck."

"Will he come?"

"If _I_ call he will. He'll come and stick a foot right up Dad's ass."

"What else can we do?" The girl could hear Del's words and yet her eyes were on the only gun that didn't have a lock box. Pulling herself up, she swiped the weapon off the coffee table, letting her fingers fish around in her pocket for a clip.

"Grab the bottles." She said, jamming the magazine home.

* * *

"There's no way she can hit that." Damian said with a sniff, seemingly not as affected by the November wind as much as his sister. But Del only shook her head, gripping her arms into her chest so hard it nearly made her ache. The sun had set the field behind the house to the color of fire. The targets on the hay bales were barely visible in this light.

"I didn't know she knew how to shoot."

"Dad taught us…" Jordan said lowly, breaking his silence with the just a few small opaque clouds. "Well, he taught her. He was supposed to teach me too…but…" The boy just shook his head, as he watched his sister set up the last of the bottles. "She'll hit them." With that the kid stuffed his red ragged hands in the pockets of his coat, watching the girl beside him dig her fingers into her arms as the sound of shots shattered the quiet.

Watching the bottles explode in a plume of liquor, glass and smoke, Del hardly noticed the soft glare of the flashing lights bouncing off the house. "Samantha Leanne Cleary! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" _Destroying her father's demons. _ But the words kept hidden in the back of her throat as Commissioner Gordon came trudging around the side of the house. Apparently the noise hadn't gone on unnoticed by the neighbors.

Without even looking back, the girl lifted the gun, positioned her hands and smashed the only bottle left standing. Only then did she eject the magazine, check the chamber and hand the gun directly to her sour faced uncle without so much as a word.

"Well that's a perfectly good waste of crown." Del could only glance up at the officer as he placed his hands on his hips, his toothpick bobbing in his mouth.

"Perfectly good waste of a man too." Del murmured, trying not eavesdrop as Jim Gordon's voice rose to the air. But Sam only looked as if she were shrugging him off.

"Whatever!" She snapped, wheeling around on her heel. "I'm done! He'll just buy more of the shit anyway!"

"Sam…" The girl was in the midst of walking back when her uncle's hand grabbed a fist full of her jacket, forcing the girl to turn. "Sam…you can't save him. This isn't going to make him stop." He said keeping her rooted with his large hands. "He has to want to save himself." Watching his niece shrink with just an exhale, the man raked a hand through his pale gray hair. "Where's the rest of them?"

"I put them in the lock boxes, except for the one I gave you." She said, slipping her hand into her pocket for the keys. "He doesn't need them back." She added setting them in his outstretched hand. "Where's Mom? Jordan said he called her and that she never answered."

"She left for her shift a few hours early. Said she needed the overtime."

Sam only bobbed her head. "I put Dad in bed. And I called Grandpa. He's taking the next flight out. It's probably best that Jordan stays with you until he's done ripping Dad a new one. I'm still hanging out at Barb's."

"Alright, Kid. Alright." The man sighed, tapping the girl on the cheek with his cool palm. "Jordan! Grab your things."

No sooner had the boy scampered off, did Del wrangle her friend around the neck with her arm. "Remind me not to play paintball with you." She uttered, forcing a strangled laugh to blurt out of the girl's mouth as they worked their way back to her car. Maybe what Jim Gordon said was true. Not everyone could be saved. They had to want to save themselves. Maybe that applied to more things than they knew.

* * *

This place. It hadn't changed much. Okay, that didn't include the crazy top hats, the life sized props or the chattering gossips behind the masks who were squealing and ogling over the room. _You think they've never seen a bubble machine before. _The thought didn't stop him from popping the nearest bubble as he claimed a vacant piece of wall, watching the pint sized princess and dragons chase down the bubbles that were floating down from the ceiling. God, that's probably more laughter than this place had ever known. He had gotten so caught up in watching the masses that he never saw Dickhead slide right beside him. "Gave Security the slip, huh?"

"Awe, Dickey gonna turn me in now?" He sneered, flinching out of the way of Dick's balled fist before it hit him in the ribs. "I thought the whole point of the masks was so that you didn't know who everyone was?"

"Yeah." Dick said, shrugging his broad shoulders before reaching up to Jason's green and gold mask and peeling it just a couple inches from his face. "But I'd know your dumb face anywhere." He added, letting the thing snap back. "I know you're here for Del, so I don't rightly care." He said letting his body collapse against the wall with a sigh.

"Nothing's really changed here…has it?" He asked, watching the man burst a wandering bubble with his finger.

"Nope. He's still just as grumpy." Dick murmured, watching the bodies lurch from the walls the moment movement was spotted on the staircase. "The only one that's changed…" he said, blinking against the brilliant flash of the camera's as a girl—scratch that—young lady came floating down the stairs. "…would be the squirt." He said, glancing away from the girl in the form fitting gown that was intricately woven of lace and pearls to the wide eyed fella in the mask beside him. No sooner had Bruce reached out for Del's hand from the bottom of the stairs did Dick's balled fist connect with Jason's gut. The room was too busy watching the heiress in the champagne dress to notice the man who had all but doubled over against the wall. "Harm a hair on her head, and I'll kick your ass from here to Kingdom Come."

For a second Jason's lungs didn't even want to work. "Look at you," he coughed, pressing his hands into his knees. "Getting all brotherly and shit, that's so sweet I could puke." But Dick simply slapped him on the back, the fucking ass hat.

"Glad we had this chat."

"Dickhead."

"I mean it, Jason."

"Yeah, yeah…" Lifting his gaze from the soft line in the marble at his feet, he spotted a dark haired kid watching them. "Groupie of yours?" Jerking his chin in the direction of the teen as he slipped right back into the masses.

"You could say that. But then, you'd know, wouldn't you? You were my first groupie."

"Fuck you." Jason grunted. "Groupie, hell, I was the improved version." He said, letting his eyes adjust to the light as the room dimmed to a softer light. "So he's my replacement, huh?"

"No one's replacing you, you idiot." Dick murmured, watching the father and daughter pair. Funny, was this the first time that Bruce had ever danced with his daughter? "The clowns. Was that your handiwork?"

Jason didn't take his eyes off the girl, even though Dick's words were all but beckoning his attention. He could only imagine what kind of stupid shit Bruce was muttering to make that smile spread across her face like that. "You seriously have to ask that?" He asked, watching the girl tilt her head back and laugh. Even through the music he could follow that full vivacious sound. The kind of sound that teased the corner of his own mouth to smile, but of course, Captain Buzzkill was still standing there beside him.

"Why? Why do you have to do it this way?"

"Because you guys won't. It's the only way this cycle is ever going to stop. Don't you get that? They're just going to keep coming. It's never going to end unless you end them yourself."

"But at what cost, J?"

"Takes a monster to catch monsters I guess." At that the man shoved himself away from the wall. "What's it matter? I should be dead anyway, right?"

"Jason-"But the man slipped into the throng, and before Dick knew it he was nothing more than one of the many shadows in the room.

* * *

He could still see that little girl crouched by the banister, peeking through the railing as if he couldn't see her there, peering down at them with her big blue eyes. But he knew, the second he titled his head up to look at her, she'd collect her Batman and flee. And then he'd have to pretend he'd seen nothing at all.

But there was a moment once, that he'd managed to slip up the stairs unnoticed, leaving the clink of champagne glasses and idle chatter behind for the soft inky silence of his daughter's hall. He only meant to remind her to mind herself. But as he inched closer to the light the pooled out of her bedroom, he found himself caught in the doorway, watching the little girl in her twirl around in her nightgown with a stoic faced Batman in her outstretched arms. Monkey see, monkey do indeed. "Mind if I cut in?" he asked peeling his leaning body away from the doorframe as the girl froze, dropping her stuffed friend to the floor.

"Okay…" She said, her little toes wiggling as she looked up at him, so unsure if she were in trouble or not. "Am I in trouble?" She asked suddenly.

"You need to be careful." He said gravely, not minding the weight of her small bare feet on the tops of his shoes.

"But no one saw me."

"_I_ saw you." He chided softly, watching their shadows make slow toddling steps around the walls. "It's not safe. We've talked about that haven't we?" He asked, dropping her little hands as he reached down to lift her chin. She suddenly seemed so fixated on his shoes. "Haven't we?"

"Yes, Sir." When she gave him a nod of her head, his hands engulfed her small ones.

"No more spying for you tonight."

"Can we read more about Alice?" She had asked it so hopefully that it was his turn to pause. "After everybody leaves?"

"It may be too late for that." He said as gently as he could manage. God, he didn't know what to do with the crest fallen faces she'd give him. "But maybe we could pencil in a few chapters tomorrow before dinner."

"That pencil of yours needs an eraser." What could he say to that? The man just shook his head, more than aware that there was an old face leaning on the doorframe.

"Perhaps, Miss Wayne would settle for Paddington Bear for the night?" Alfred asked, winning a gleeful look out of the girl. "Miss Bambi is dancing on the piano." He said with a droll as Bruce lifted the girl up by her hands and set her to her feet.

"Ah. Duty calls, I suppose." He said as he flicked Del on the tip of her nose. "Behave yourself. No more covert operations."

"_Oh, alright_." She moaned rolling her eyes for effect as her father started his way to the door. "G'night, Dad."

Her small voice was enough to stop him, he could only turn to the curtsying little thing and bow. "Night."

"Mind your shoes, Master Bruce." At the warming the man looked down, spying the small prints of Del's feet there on the tops of his shoes. He could only buff them off with his hand before he could start for the end of the hall, listening to the old man and the child.

"Did you see that? He danced with me."

"I most certainly did, I had to pinch myself."

* * *

"Earth to Dad, come in, Dad."

"Wh-What?"

"And there he is. Where'd you go this time?"

"Nowhere in particular." But his daughter was only shaking her head at him, causing the large tendril of hair that had escaped her updo to skim across her cheek. "Your mother would be proud of you." The words seemed to make her grow still, rooting her to the floor as he tucked the wayward strand behind her ear.

Before her mind could race to the right words, he was reaching into his pocket, shedding light on the long thin box he'd hidden. "It's not a traditional sweet sixteen gift…but..." The man just shook his head and put the box in her hands.

But as Del carefully pried the lid open, she felt the fingers of her hand pressing into her lips. "Dad…are you sure?" She uttered, so aware of the whispering current that was wrapping it's self around them as she peered down at the long strand of pearls. When she made no move to pluck them up, her father pulled them free.

"Your Grandmother would've wanted you to have them. I want you to have them."

Feeling the pearls fall around her neck, Del could hardly swallow the knot that had taken up residence in her throat. These…these were important to him. "But, Dad-" The words were wet and thick in her mouth and here they were in the middle of the room with all these people watching them.

The second he cupped her cheeks, her words faded, gobbled by the murmuring. "I'm proud of you." He added, feeling something wet trickle over his fingers, as he pressed his lips to the top of her head. "Stiff upper lip, remember? You keep doing that your mascara's gonna run."

"You jerk! You made me cry!"

"Says every girl in his life."

"Gee, thanks Tommy."

Listening to the crowd ebb into a chorus of laughter Del all but buried herself into him, feeling his laugh vibrating through him as her own was muffled into his tux. Trying to hug the man was like trying to get her arms around a tree trunk that was just too big to hold. "Thank you." She croaked, as she tried to untangle herself from him. But the man only smudged the blobs of dark tears with his thumb.

"Greet your classmates. Mingle with your friends, and try to pretend you're having fun. You might have some on accident." With a small smile dawning across her face he let her go, listening to her as she turned to the crowd.

"Screw the crying, let's party."

* * *

Tim pressed his elbows into the banister, well aware that Wayne Manor was all but under siege by everything and anything that could crawl its way out of a fairytale. But even through the glittering lights, crazy wigs or even the towering performers on stilts, he could still find her.

"What'cha looking at, Timmy?" Oh, fuck. It wasn't the blonde's voice that peeled him from the sight of Delilah Wayne as she fell to her butt on the dance floor, half clinging to Dick and half dissolved into a puddle of laughter. It was the subtle scent of alcohol lingering on Carlotta's breath that forced him to turn his head.

Tim could only feel that exasperated sigh whooshing out of his lungs as the Cinderella clung to the banister to keep herself from falling out of her shoes. Surely one of her friends would come collect her. "Oh, look at her fake ass." The girl said with a snort.

_Fake? No, this is the real Delilah. _He thought, watching that smile reach her eyes as she reached out to drag any spectators forward by their hands. _I know that feeling._ It only took a thought and he could feel her icy hands gripping his.

"Oh, come on, Tim."

"But-I-I don't dance." But to her, his words meant nothing. She only answered him with a devious smile as she continued to pull him closer to the small band of street performers. "Del, I'm serious…" But that smile only lit up her face. And at that point he knew there wouldn't be any way of getting out of it.

He certainly wasn't going forget the number of times the word 'sorry' came out of his mouth when he stepped on her feet. At that point he could only thank the stars that she'd decided to stop and buy a pair of shoes rather than continuing to run around Gotham in barefoot. Nor was he going to forget the nervousness that crawled up his back when she placed his hand on her waist. Even now he could still feel the texture of that dress on the pads of his fingers. Somehow, through all the blunders, the sound of her laugh melting with the sound of the cello in the city streets…it made it all okay. This girl. This impulsive, big hearted, stubborn ass girl…

"Soooo..." Feeling Carlotta's weight hanging from around his neck, Tim had no choice but to return to the madness and the unmistakable smell of alcohol mixing with the cotton candy smell of the girl's perfume. "Did you hear her sing with all those nobodies?" The girl asked, squeezing around Tim's neck like a python with a mouse in its grip. "They were all around the kitchen counter banging on it, tossing around solo cups and junk. You would've thought she was a nobody too."

_I did. _But the words never left his mouth. He watched her slide right back into her choir as if she'd never left at all. He'd seen how easily they bantered, how quick they were to come together. How happy she was. God, he'd never seen that happy before. They were just a group of kids from different schools who liked to make music together. She was no different from them, and they were no different from her. They were a team.

"Babe, if it wasn't for the name, she _would_ be a nobody."

_Pike. _"Get her away from me." Tim hissed, more than certain he was probably as blue as her ball gown.

"I can't believe you wanted to date her!" If it wasn't for his pride, he might've thanked the guy for unwrapping her from around his neck. "Did you know, I knew Timmy first?!" Now it was Pike's turn to sigh and laugh it off.

"What? When you guys were like five? Now, you coming or not? The girls are looking for you."

And just like that, he had the little drunken leech at his side. Tim immediately started to scan the crowd, looking for that trademark smile or the curvy form in a champagne gown. Except…now he couldn't find her. "Happy Birthday, Ice Queen."

The cheerful words made the boy's spine go rigid. Sure enough, there she was right there on the stairs. He could see her chest rising and falling with a breath before she let out a practiced smile. No sooner had the pair gotten a couple stairs below her did she stop. "I may be an ice queen…" She said easily, peering over her bare back at them, "But I'm a queen. Don't forget it." Oh, the look on their faces. Tim could've let a breathy chuckle slip, had it not been for the flash of anxiousness he saw flickering across her face. That duality was always going to be there. Before he could even open his mouth, it was gone and she was peeling his green and gold mask from his face.

"I'm on my way to see my grandmother."

"Didn't she slam a door your face?"

"Yeah…something like that." Her glossy lip disappeared between her teeth as she shook her head. The night was only halfway through and her hair had already started to fall in wide wavy bands. If he dared to admit it, he could even say he liked it. "Save me a dance?"

"Alright… though you know I might-"

"Promise?"

_Might step on your feet. _But Tim could feel his lips upturning as he slid the mask on her head back over her face. "I promise. Now, go slay the dragon will ya?"

* * *

_I don't know what to say. _Del could feel her feet sliding in her shoes as they sank into the carpet of the office, well aware of the lean wraith like thing that had her back to her. The woman only seemed to tilt her head up, peeling her eyes from her withered hands as she heard the door click closed.

"You will address me as Grandmother, or Gigi. I don't care which." With the woman turned, her gown swishing along the tooth of the carpet. "You have questions for me, don't you?" The words were soft and prim, but even still Del could grasp the soft lilt of a southern accent hiding on the fringes of her voice. Why? Why the hell was she so nervous? This was her home. They were in her father's study for crying out loud. With her fingers reaching up to feel the pearls around her neck, Del couldn't help but steal a glance at her father's parents. "Well? Out with it." No. Don't let her make you feel inferior. You're the Wayne.

There wasn't any time to study the color of the woman's eyes, how they mixed green and brown all at once. Her mother's own eyes. "Where were you?"

The simple question was enough to stagger the woman, make those eyes widen under her long dark lashes as she wringed her hands tighter in front of her. "I beg your pardon?"

"I could have used a grandmother in my life. I had one, I had one all along, funny thing is, and she didn't want to be bothered with me until this very moment. I want to know why."

Just like that the woman angled her chin as if she were staring at insolent child. "Perhaps that's a better question for your father." The woman said primly, making no move to close the space between them as the silence built up around them. "After your mother died, I came here to collect you." The words had Delilah narrowing her eyes. "But your father and I couldn't agree. I wanted to raise you myself. You would've been raised in the same house as your mother. He just… he was too stubborn to do what was best for you."

"_Don't you dare!" _ The words came out like venom, and for all the numbness in her throat, they very well could've been. "Don't you dare try to pin all the blame on him. You're damn well old enough to know better. I know a great deal about you, Miss Gisele Renee Devereux. I know that when the dragon lady wants something, she doesn't stop until it's hers." Del could feel the heat in her cheeks as the woman's face grayed to the same color of her pixie cut hair. "So, if I was so important, what the hell stopped you?"

"_Pennyworth_, he's been filling your head, hasn't he?"

"Oh, no you don't, Gigi, answer the question."

"Alright, but I'll tell you now you won't like the answer." She said evenly, setting those familiar eyes on her. God, why, why did she have to have Mom's eyes? Why did she have to look at her with such disappointment and disgust? "The second after our little confrontation he slipped in and bought enough shares to control _Devereux-Verre_. The jewel of our family, we survived so long because of the glass we create. I was promised that I'd receive the shares back once you turned sixteen. By then you'd be old enough to decided." Watching the girl's chest heave, the woman simply shook her head.

"Did you get them back_?" Dad…blackmailed her? _

"Of course I did. Why do thing I'm here now?" Listening to the sound of Gigi's sigh meld into the hum of the music downstairs, Del could only wring her hands.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did he have to buy up the shares? He doesn't do anything without a reason. Why?"

"He didn't want me to take you. And I would've done so by any means necessary." The woman said darkly. "I was merely allowed to visit." She added with a sniff, paying not mind to the slack look on her great-granddaughter's face. Did the woman just openly admit that she would've kidnapped her? "It was ridiculous. We don't bend ourselves to the will of others."

"But you never came…"

"Of course not!"

"So you went and sulked like a sore loser." Del stated, feeling the words scrape their way out of her throat. "What? Couldn't hurt your pride, could you? Not even for me? Everything is about control isn't it?"

"You're a Devereux, you should've been with us-"

"Bitch, I'm a Wayne!"

"Del!"

"Uh-uh. Only family calls me Del. From where I stand you're nothing but a stranger to me." Delilah shot out as she turned for the door. "It wasn't supposed to go like this." She grumbled, trying to ignore how the words made her mouth ache as she stood there with the knob in her hand.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know. Maybe, I'm sorry, I should've been there for you." Del said as she wrenched open the door, letting the sound of music and whoops of joy leak into the room. "But you'll probably die first, right?" With that the girl shoved herself out before her tongue decided to run away with her again.

* * *

_What did I expect? Did I really think it was going to be all happy tears and hugs or something?_

"Oh, shit, Pike, I can't believe you broke it."

"Well, it's not like I meant to! Why'd you put it on the floor anyway?"

Hearing the whispers from the parlor, Del couldn't help but poke her head in, unsure of what to make of the hushed giggles and bitten curses. That was until she spotted a blue guitar piled in the midst of the group. "I just wanted to play on it you dope-" But Carlotta's words seemed to hang there in the air as she realized that everyone in her little bunch was staring at the doorway, staring at Del, who was staring at her mother's guitar.

"I'm so sorry, I'll get you a new one."

Of all the instruments hanging on the walls, they had to pick that one? But before the girl could even clear her throat, she could feel a hand steadying her elbow.

"I'll clean it up, Miss."

Hearing Alfred's words, the girl could only blink at the guitar; it was like looking at a wounded animal that had no chance of surviving. The girl could only manage a nod as she turned on her heel, feeling the sting of tears glazing over her eyes. _I need to get out of here. _ Before she knew it, she hit the door to the terrace, letting her lungs grasp greedily at the air as she fumbled her way to the railing. "God Damn shoes!" She cried, ripping off the heels as fast as she could, letting her feet grow numb by the touch of the icy concrete beneath her feet.

He couldn't help but watch her. There was something amusing about watching her climb on the handrail so she could tilt her head up to the sky. Maybe it was the bare feet, or the soft flutter of that flattering gown. Or Maybe it was just the look on her face. After all, if anyone could master a look between being broken and being filled with wonder, it was her. He'd only meant to keep an eye on her, and yet he found himself slipping out of the iron patio chair in the shadows to fill the void beside her, letting the wind tease him with the soft scent of her perfume.

"Tim." The word came out easily as she caught that flash of the metallic green and gold mask out of the corner of her eye. With him standing so close, she was sure she could feel the warmth radiating off of him, but the girl only returned her eyes to the sky and the brilliant lights above their heads. "Hey, a shooting star." The words came out like a sigh as she twisted toward him. "Make a wish." But in the midst of turning she caught her foot on her own dress, and before she braced herself for impact, she found herself pressed back into the railing. He was holding her there. "Thank you. One of my dorkier moments." No sooner had her feet touched the ground, did she feel his cold hands cupping her cheeks. It was happening so quickly, her brain wasn't sure how to react, even when his shadow dipped closer to hers, bringing the soft wisps of his breath along with it.

She wasn't sure what kind of sound came out of her, a stupid sigh maybe. But as the soft touch of his lips gently warmed the spots were her tears had fallen, Del was suddenly unsure of what to do, knowing full well that his mouth would touch hers by the end of the breath. By the time his lips skimmed over her own she could have all but melted right there into a puddle of nerves. Kisses were strange things, warm, wet and not as soft as her imagination thought it would be. His kiss wasn't unkind, but it was nothing shy or sweet as any previous daydreaming had made her believe, not that her shaking knees seemed to mind.

* * *

"Uh, oh…that looks like Paige's guitar." Hearing the good doctor's words, Sam couldn't help but follow the man's gaze to the shattered instrument in Alfred's arms. It only made her stomach drop to her feet.

"Alfred, please tell me that's not what I think it is." But despite her wisp of a hope, the man's chest only seemed to cave with the expulsion of a sigh.

"I'm afraid so."

"Excuse me, Mr. Elliot." Without another word, the girl followed the old man into the kitchen, well aware they had a shadow trailing them along the wall. "Oh, this is gonna break her heart."

"She already knows." Alfred said gravely as he set the broken thing on the counter. What did those boneheaded children do? Trample on it?

"What's going break her heart?"

Sam only glanced over her shoulder to see Tim lifting his mask from his face. "Del's guitar was practically smashed." Sam said, helping Alfred lay out the tiny splintered pieces. "It used to belong to her mom." It was as if the words reeled the boy in, forcing her to give him some space as he bellied up beside the instrument. _Learn anything? _ He mouthed. But Sam could only shake her head, letting the boy set his attention back on the guitar.

"How's it looking?" Tim could barely had to lift his head to recognize Thomas Elliot's shadow, but no sooner had he glanced at the man looming in the doorway, did his gaze slide back down to the fragile piece in his hand.

"It's been obliterated." He muttered.

"That's a shame; Paige had that thing since college."

"Wait…you knew Del's mom?"

At the girl's surprise, Tommy set his glass down as he reached out to one of the finer shards. "Sure did, she and I went to the same med school. She used to sit in the rec room and play on this thing." He answered, turning the thin piece of wood over in his hands. "What do you think, Alfie, can it be saved?"

Old Pennyworth only seemed to blow out a breath. "It would take some steadier hands than what I possess, unfortunately."

"I can put back together, but it's gonna take some time…" Tim murmured, as he turned the body of the guitar over. "She probably wouldn't be able to play on it either…but at least she'll have it."

"Did you do your clinicals at the same time?" Sam could feel Alfred bristling beside her, and yet she kept her eyes on Elliot, watching him as he set the frail piece of wood back down on the counter.

"Clinicals, you must know someone in the medical field yourself, don't you?"

"Mom. She's still in school." Sam stated, watching the man's eyes narrow. But then he only simpered as he picked up his champagne glass.

"Let me guess she wants to be a registered nurse, doesn't she? It's a shame; you know we have about the same amount of schooling by the end of it." Elliot shook his head. "No. I wouldn't touch Paige's unit with a ten foot pole."

Sam could feel her brows knitting together as the man practically spat the words, but as she watched the doctor drain the rest of his glass, she could feel Alfred's thin fingers tapping her on the shoulder.

"Miss Cleary, would you be so kind as to fetch Miss Wayne. The dance performance should be starting soon."

"Sure, Alfred, where'd she slip off to?"

"The terrace."

Why did it feel like Alfred was warning her? Was she prodding too closely?

* * *

"Hey, Del, the performance is about to start."

Turning toward the beam of light that shed across the balcony, Del found nothing but her shoes still piled on the concrete. Where the hell had Tim gone? Slipping from the railing, the girl simply worked herself back into her shoes; half certain that Sam could see the flush she felt still warming her cheeks. "From the stairs is probably going to be the best seat in the house." She mumbled, feeling her skin tingle as the warmth of the house began to eat away at the chill in her bones. But even over the fire in her nerves, she could still feel the soft touch of his lips on her face. Her lungs still felt as though they were waiting on an exhale from the moment her lip became trapped between his.

"You're unusually quiet." She heard Sam whisper, jarring her from the memory. Hell, she didn't even remember climbing the stairs. She had barely begun to press into the banister, when the house grew dark, pulling a few surprised yelps out of the crowd below.

"I'll have to tell you later." She murmured, watching the girl's attention get caught by the Ballerinas in LED strip costumes. She wasn't sure when he slid into the empty space beside her. Feeling the music through the floor, she certainly couldn't feel his footsteps. What did she do now? Still so uncertain, she let her hand crawl across the rail until it found his. He certainly didn't seem to mind letting his own fingers tangle themselves up in hers.

"I know, I know, I still owe you a dance." The words barely skirted around her ear before he turned his gaze back to the brilliantly lit dancers.

"So what? You kiss girls and runaway?" She half expected to see that mouth break into a slow curling smirk. The kind that was just a breath away from being smug. But he only seemed to rear back.

"Huh?"

_Wait…_

"Weren't you…on the terrace about ten minutes ago?" She asked, letting her eyes drift back to the show.

"Um…no. I was just in the kitchen with Alfred and Sam."

As his words finally made it to her ears, Del felt her heart fall to her feet_. If that wasn't Tim…then who did I just kiss? _Feeling her nerves begin to make the tips of her fingers itch, the girl squeezed her free hand around the rail, trying to concentrate on the show. The crowd was still ogling over the high wired dancers, giving thunderous applause as the creature they created fell apart, scattering glowing pieces across the stage. This was the part where Sissy was supposed to pick up the helmet, put it on her head and continue dancing…but before the child could bend down to scoop it up someone snatched it off the floor.

Del didn't have a chance to make a sound as short screams began to echo around them like sirens. The performers that had been walking on stilts all evening suddenly collapsed, spilling out clowns by the dozen.

And there…holding out the helmet to a terror stuck Sissy, was the Joker himself.

Del could feel her lungs catching, as Sissy carefully took the helmet from him, placed it on her head and finished.

"Well, that was a plot twist, right folks?" He cried out to the crowd, smacking his hand on Sissy's helmeted head. "Now, where's the birthday girl?"


	24. Every Party Needs A Clown: Part 2

**A/N:** Here we go again!

I drowned once. Stranger still, I don't remember panicking. There wasn't a white light to speak of, if you count watching the sunlight shift to dark gray shades. Funny, here I was trapped under the weight of the water, and somehow my lungs felt like they were on fire. And even though my world was motionless, I can still remember the feel of my mother's hands as she reached for me. The next thing I know, I was lying in a heap, gushing up water under my mother's worry stricken gaze.

"Thank God." The ache of my chest would fade quickly, but my apprehension stayed with me, taking the form of something so benign as a body of water. But maybe it's not the element it's self I feared. I resigned to my surrender so easily—now that's terrifying.

* * *

"Oh, Birthday Girl!" Even as the words came bouncing out of his mouth, Del could only hear the collective gasp of the room, no doubt every man, woman and child was burning their lungs as they waited for the edge of chaos to come. With her heart hammering in her ears, she couldn't hear the gunfire, she could only see the flash rounds lighting up the room. Chaos had erupted in the form of terrified faces and soundless screams. He had them scurrying like rats with nowhere to go. "Come out; come out where ever you are!"

Watching Sissy lift the helmet off her head, Del felt her fingers uncurling from the banister. "What are you doing? Del, No!" But she could only see terror, wide eyed terror resting in the faces of men, women…and children. _I could slip off-I could slip off and change right now, but if I'm gone…if this madman doesn't find me among them, what would that mean for all these lives inside our walls? _ Her eyes could only follow Dick as he ducked through the crowd. "Tim go. " Del uttered, unsure if he could hear her command over the din of alarm. "Go! Before they seal off all the exits."

"What about you?! I can't just leave you here, you're my partner!"

"I'm the one he's looking for! And if he doesn't find me, they'll be the ones to pay!" Without wasting the time for an argument she shoved her way around him, laying her hands on Sam's white tipped knuckles. "Sam! Sam, Snap out it!" Sam's chest seemed to fill with air. "I need you to do something. Sam! Are you listening?!" The girl's head barely seemed to nod as her eyes locked on the chaos below. _Now, now do you see the world you've fallen into? This is what we contend with. These are the battles we fight. Some of us have died for this. _ "Go to my wing; make sure the door locks behind you. Then, go into the closet in my study. There's a panel inside to the left that you can remove. It's going to lead you to the servant's passage. You understand?"

She waited for the girl to nod again; all the while the room was still exploding with the sound fright and gunfire. "Follow it, you'll find Alfred's arsenal. Things I _know_ you can use."

"What are you going to do?" She heard Tim ask from behind her, but her eyes were already skirting the stairs. _Any moment now…they'll come. He's rounding us up like cattle. _

"I know you can do this, now go!" Del could only watch the girl flee as the stairs were overtaken. "I'm gonna to keep him busy for as long as I can."

"How 'bout you, Cupcake?"

The words force Del's gaze to the floor, watching as the clown pulled a fully gowned Cinderella from the crowd by her wrists. Despite the frightened whimpers or the big fat tear drops still on the girl's face, he proceeded to spin her around, that smile growing larger as he won a surprised yelp out of her. By the time he was cackling, he flung her, tilting his head back in full laughing mode as she spilled to the ground.

"Whoops! What can I say? I've got two left feet."

Del could feel the handrail sliding underneath her palm as she crept to the opening of the stairs, fighting not to leap forward as the Joker stooped down in front of the fallen Carlotta. But even as the girl screamed at attempted to crawl back on her hands, her attempts were thwarted the moment she found a knife under her nose.

"Let's see if you're the birthday girl." She half expected him to rip the mask from the girl's face, but instead, the man only reached into his coat, revealing a particular red soled shoe, a shoe the girl was certain Gotham had claimed it for it's self the moment she left it lying there on the sidewalk.

As the clown wrangled one of the girl's feet from her shoes, Del could hear Carlotta's sobs shuddering over the whispering strain. The more he tried to cram her foot into the heel, the harder she wept. "Let go! Let go of me _you freak!_"

For all his chuckling, the laughter seemed to seep into the quiet as the man ripped the shoe from her foot. Batting the girl's shaking hands away from her face, he pulled he glitzy mask away from her, letting it skirt across the floor. "I see. A freak am I?" _Oh, no. Oh, God._ "When I'm done with you, Sweetness…you won't have the strength to face yourself in the mirror." Frowning, Joker rose to his feet, giving a shrug with his narrow shoulders before he reached for that flower on his lapel. Even though she couldn't see the acid, Del knew he hit his mark as the girl's whimpers turned into screams. "Ah, music to my ears." He crooned, twirling about as he scanned the crowd for his next victim.

Delilah could feel the bile rolling up her throat as the clown suddenly paused. She could only imagine the terror the man before him was feeling when the Joker kneeled in front of the little girl that was all but wrapped around his leg. "What about you, Princess?" _He wants a reaction..._

"Wait! Please!" The second the child's screams began to ring through the manor, Del started to take stairs two at time as he pried the little thing away and proceeded to pull her into the empty space. That was until she could see Sissy lifting that helmet. Her heart dropped to her feet as she tossed it, nailing the clown right in the back of the head.

"Why you little-"

"I'm right here!" Oh, that echo, it didn't even sound like her own voice booming over the hum of panic. But it was certainly enough to make him twist on his heels holding out his arms as that wide yellow grin spread across his face_. Keep it together._ Each careful step down those stairs was one was one step closer to a man who wasn't afraid to die, a man who had nothing to lose—the most dangerous kind of all.

"Ooh, feisty."

"Olly. Olly. Oxen. Free." The words came out bitten, and still they seemed to make the man's gaping mouth curl as he tilted his head letting that cackle of a laugh ruffle its way through the swarming tension. She could see Sissy snatching the little girl by the hand and ripping her back into the crowd and yet, her eyes couldn't linger there, not when the man had a knife in his hand.

"Cute, Toots." He hissed as he slithered closer, close enough to point that blade just under her chin. "But you know…not everyone like's a smart ass." Without another word he kneeled, forcing Del to take a breath as she felt his gloved fingers wrap around her ankle, pulling her foot from its shoe only to place it in another. As her toes sank into the familiar heel, the Joker jumped to his feet.

"Perfect Fit!"

"Come here for round two?" She asked, watching his smile shrink as she scratched her nose.

"That was you, wasn't it?" At that moment, Del couldn't decide what made the flesh on her arms rise. Nothing good ever came from a clown who wasn't amused. But a knife to the throat didn't bode well either, especially when she could feel blood tickling down her neck.

"We both know the answer to that. Now, what is it you want?" Even from this distance, she could see her father's stoic face. It wasn't pale or flushed red like every other body in the room. His eyes were hard. Some might call it shock, but Del knew her father's anger when she saw it. Only Jet's hand on his arm seemed to be keeping him in place.

Feeling his hot breath reaching out to her face, Delilah closed her eyes, listening to the ring in her ears mingled with the sound of his shoes squeaking as he shifted his weight. "Why, I want to play a game! Doesn't that sound fun?!" The girl could only swallow, feeling her throat bob against the blade.

Opening her eyes she found those yellowed teeth gaping wide as his lips curled around his cheeks. _You're unarmed, but you're not unskilled._ With a deep breath, forcing the bloodied lace to stick to her chest, Del's hands shot out, pushing his face away from her as she tilted her head back to push his armed hand up. With one swift quick in the groin the clown puddled to the floor before her, dropping the blade with a clank. "Not funny."

Listening to the sound of rounds being shoved into their chambers, Del held up her empty hands, sending the blade spinning across the floor with a kick. "So…what game did you have in mind?" She muttered, feeling her insides squirm as the man before her only tumbled back and pulled himself right back to his feet with the ease of any circus performer. _Don't write him off. Don't underestimate him. Don't do what Jason did._

* * *

Holding out his hand, Del watched as one of his men handed him a roll of duct tape. "Hide and seek of course." He said ripping the tape of the roll. "But for that, you'll have to pay a penalty."

C'm_on boys, c'mon. _"Ducktape?" Del grumbled, wincing at the sound of the tape peeling from the roll. With her hands and feet bound, Delilah could only watch as the crowd was brought to sit on the floor with their hands taped behind their backs. Say for one squirmy little girl.

"Well, that not your penalty." He said with a shrug, eying Sissy as the girl signed through air. What he didn't expect was for the heiress on the floor to burst out with a laugh.

"What's so funny?! I'm the only one who makes the jokes around here!"

"Oh, you don't want to know trust me." She said, watching the girl suddenly sit on the floor obediently.

"So what did she say?" He asked again.

Now the girl stopped laughing completely. "That Batman's gonna kick your ass."

"Oh? A reunion with Batsy? Wouldn't that be grand?!" He cried, as he yanked her from the floor by her wrists. "I'm counting on it, Cupcake." With that he put a piece of tape over her mouth, making sure to give it a good smack. Perhaps it was good thing that the joker couldn't read sign language. Sister girl happened to be sitting on that knife. Delilah could only let her eyes slide to her father who immediately looked to the child. But as Delilah looked around at these ashen and defeated faces she realized that one in particular was missing. Tim. Just where was Tim? What the hell was he up to?

"Now for the penalty!" Something in his words made her skin feel as if it were running cold. Okay, maybe it wasn't the words; maybe it was gun he pulled from the inside of his coat. Just how big were those inside pockets?! "Shall we spill a little blood, your highness?" But he wasn't pointing the gun at her…he was pointing it right at the crowd, starting with Bruce Wayne himself. "Eeny, meeny…" With every slow word he moved, pointing the gun at men, women and children alike. "Miny..." _Jesus_. "Oh, what the hell, we'll just pick you."

Surely her heart had climbed in the vicinity of her ears; she couldn't hear the shot over the panicked rhythm of her heart. One moment she had her eyes on her father, watching his eyes grow larger and then…there was nothing but plume of smoke smelling of salt, fire and hot metal. _Dad!_ But the scream she felt tearing out her only seemed to be lost in the shrieking terror.

The floor was unkind to her knees and yet, she couldn't even feel the pain buzzing through her bones, not when she could hear the sound of a body collapsing to the floor. With each slow second she waited for the smoke to clear, Del found herself inhaling that familiar scent, the rusty smell of blood mixing with gun polish.

Only when she saw Bruce Wayne's blood speckled face, did she sink to the floor, leaving herself eye level with a dying man. _No! No! No! _"Tommy!" Laying there with her cheek pressed into the marble, she could see Elliot's lips moving half expecting him to utter something, and yet there was only blood oozing from him. Del let her eyes slip from the crimson pool that was slowly building itsway toward her before looking to her father who had worked himself to his knees, but no sooner had he moved did he find himself staring down the barrel of the still warm gun.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" The Joker chided, putting his foot into the man's chest. "Wait your turn!"

Laying there on the floor, Del could only hear the sound of a heartbeat hammering in her ears. It was enough to make the girl's head ache, but as she listened to the sound of The Joker's shoes squeak across the floor, the girl could see a shadow growing across the skylight. By the time she was rolling to take cover, the jester of Gotham was tilting his head up with a curse.

In a breath the skylight was gone, chipped into thousands of biting shards. No sooner had the sound of booted feet hitting the ground greet her ears, did the girl hear the familiar hiss of smoke bombs. As the toxic clouds filled the room, Del found herself struggling to open her lungs. Feeling someone lift her from the ground there was a delusional moment where she was almost grateful. That was until reality smacked her in the face. It wasn't Dick. It was that fucking clown! "Let the games begin."

Thrown over his shoulder, Del would've liked to nail him in the chest with her tapped feet, and yet something else caught her attention. A new smell, a familiar smell. _Gasoline_.

"Gotta hand it to ya, Toots. Your party's the hottest on the block!" Watching the flames climb up the drapes in deep twisting shades of orange and gold, Del could only hear that maniacal laugh as the sound of chaos billowed through the halls like smoke.

* * *

_Don't freak, don't freak, don't freak. No freaking out, Sam! _Perhaps the words in her head would have provided the right amount of solace if she wasn't running through barely familiar halls with the sound of bullets whizzing by her ears. _Of course their spreading through the house! What? Did you honestly think they'd stay put? _With the sound of a chase scaring her heart up into her throat, Sam slid for the key pad, falling out of her shoes and stepping on the ends of her dress to get to the thing. "C'mon, c'mon you bitch!" She cried, fumbling to enter the correct code. Now that first shaky attempt had her pressing on the wrong buttons, the cronies were closing in, that or the bullet holes in the door before her just materialized out of thin air. No sooner had that heavy ass door pop open did Sam turn her head, just in time to see the flash of a bullet scraping it's way from the barrel. The girl dove for the door, wincing at the sound of the bullet landing in the wood façade as she shoved it closed.

"Lock it?! How do I lock it?!" She cried, scrambling up from her hands and knees as she spied the soft glow of buttons on a second key code panel, among them a large red button. Reaching up, she hit it with the side of her fist, listening to the sound of metal locks clinking together inside the door. _Jesus…it is Fort Knox. _She thought, letting her eyes adjust to the dimness of the recess lighting that lit up the hall as metal plates started to rise from panels in the windowsills.

With the sound of rounds thudding into the steel of the door behind her, Sam jerked herself up. _It's okay, it's going to be okay._ But as the girl wandered through the dim light scanning the barely light hall, a new sound greeted her ears, a sound that made the fine hair on her arms stand to attention.

Frozen in the hall, she could only see a shadow protruding from the darkness, emitting a growl fit for a creature from hell. "Jax?" The name sounded like a squeak. _No! You don't want to sound like a chew toy!_ She would have liked to whimper, maybe fall to her knees and prepare herself to feel his teeth digging into her skin…but she just stood there watching the faint light gleam off of his teeth as he bared his teeth at her. _He knows…he knows there's something wrong. You don't have time to panic._

Letting her body slump down to her knees she stared at the dog, watching his rust pointed paws take a stance. "Jax, down!" The words seemed thick as they achingly ripped from her throat into a command. The Doberman's teeth were still clenched, and yet he halted, still just as uncertain and unsure as the girl sitting before him.

Sam could feel a bit of relief trying to edge its way into her as the dog's teeth were hidden behind his lips once more. The relief however, was quickly forgotten as the creature cautiously stepped forward. Even with that cold nose sniffing around her, Sam could still see that fine line of hair bristling across his back. "G-Good boy." The words almost sounded like a whimper as she sat there letting the dog sniff around her. Of all the dogs, why did it have to be a scary ass Doberman?

Placing her hand on his back, she could feel the muscles tightening under the pads of her fingers. "Good boy." She murmured again, forcing herself to scratch through his short hair before she tried to collect herself to her feet, more than aware that the dog was still inches away from her.

As she hurried through the hall, feeling her bare feet stick to the cold marble floor, Sam became highly aware of the sound of claws tapping on the floor behind her. Even as she entered the study, that shadow was still there, watching her as she slid into the closet. "She said left." The girl whispered, knowing full well that only the dog was listening as she felt around the wooden panels with her hands. When she felt the cool touch of a tiny metal latch, the breath she was holding came gushing out. The panel slid away easily, revealing nothing more than a new darkness.

Feeling the grit of dust under her feet, the girl slid inside, inhaling the musty smell of age and cedar spreading through the small hall. With Jax trailing behind her sniffing and snorting, the girl let her hand travel along the walls as she worked herself closer and closer to the light that was trying to stretch out to them in the darkness.

Stumbling down an instep beneath the dim yellow glow, the girl found walls covered with the soft gleam of metal. _Guns._ No sooner had she started to peer into the collection did the feel of a heavy hand touching her shoulder force a yelp right out of her.

"Miss."

"Jesus Christ, Alfred!"

"And what pray tell are you doing _here_?"

The girl's hands were still pressed into her collar bone as she looked up at him. "Del sent me here." She managed, fighting not to tilt her head at him. Here in this light he seemed so…_menacing_. Just _who_ was Alfred Pennyworth anyway? What butler kept a stash of guns hidden in secret halls?

The man only blinked his dark eyes at her, resigning with a sigh. "I see. Markswomen are you?"

* * *

The floor felt warm beneath her, but maybe that was her own body…or maybe that that was the heat of the flames reaching out from the walls. But the knife? The knife that was resting under the tulle of her tutu? That still felt cold. Anabel Collins had no choice but to make it to her feet, wading through the frightened whimpers and plumes; she positioned herself behind the weapon, letting her small fingers feel for the object until she could pull it into her bound hands.

The blade dug into her skin, flailing as she tried to push the blade into the tape. With slick fingers, Sissy went to work, feeling her binds giving a little at a time until she could finally pull her arms apart. But the moment the girl looked up, she found herself rolling to her side, as Robin slung one of the gunmen in her direction. With the glass digging into her side she watched the man smack right into the wall. Thankfully he stayed there in a heap. "Give me that." Before the child could even right herself, Robin's shadow was looming over her, his gloved fingers snatching the knife from her as he ripped it through the tape that was still around her ankles.

"Robin, watch your six!" No sooner had Batman shouted, did the boy leap up and twist into a roundhouse kick, making the man's head snap back before he sank to the floor. She could see the boys fingers twitching around the blade, tightening and untightening. Did he…want to stab this man? Not sure she even took her next breath; the girl snatched the knife from him as she hopped to her feet. The glass only crunched under her slippers as she made a dash through the smoke, skidding to her knees behind a blood spattered Bruce Wayne.

Seeing the dead man lay not even inches away, Sissy could feel the bile crawling up her throat. No sooner had the child cut through the tape, did Bruce lean over the body. _I know what he's doing. They did that with my dad…_ "Is he-" But he only let his fingers fall from the man's neck, shaking his head as Sissy moved to the woman who was sitting beside him. This woman was so calm; her eyes were big, but still…why wasn't she as bewildered?

"No…he's-" The man shook his head again, as if he were trying to shake off a bad dream but in a split second that slack stoic face was back again. Without a word the girl could see him plucking a large sliver of glass off the floor. Between watching Bruce cut people free and glancing up to see Robin lay someone flat, the girl began to realize that she couldn't find Batman. "Keep cutting, Anabel!" With the room quickly becoming consumed by the flames, the girl had no choice but to continue trying to ignore the itch in the back of her throat and the feel of glass beneath her feet. _So this is chaos._ With sweat stinging her eyes, she kneeled down to the closest person, slashing through the tape as s quick as she could muster. "Thanks, Kid. Saves me a lot of work." Sissy squatted down behind the next person, glancing up when she heard something clatter to the floor. The man was gone; it was if the smoke had swallowed him up, leaving nothing behind but a two-toned mask.

* * *

_Robin can do it; I know the kid can get the rest of them to safety. _Maybe if Bruce were filling these boots, he'd be doing the same. Maybe the guy expected him to put the others in this burning place first. Isn't that what Del would have expected him to do too? Fuck it, maybe he didn't know what the right thing to do was at this point, but he did know that if he didn't get to Del things were not going to end well. It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt, but it's the chaos and death that make the jester of Gotham laugh. _Death_. Jesus H. Christ. If they thought Bruce almost lost it with Jason…if he lost his daughter…fuck that couldn't happen. He couldn't let that happen.

Feeling the heat of the flames warming him through the suit, he had no choice but wrap himself in that damned heavy ass cape, trying to ward of the fire as he burst through the door that the clown had disappeared into. With the flames flickering behind him, he could see nothing more than smoke curling through the empty halls. Of course he'd been taught better than to assume that the hall was anything but empty. Night vision always told another tale. Spying a body lingering in the shadows, he became a part of the shade himself. By the time the man realized that someone had him in a chokehold it was too late, he was already falling to the floor.

No sooner had the sound of cuff linking together reach his ears did the sound of boots force him to tumble back from his haunches to miss the sudden explosion of gun fire. What the gunmen hadn't expected was for Batman to come running straight for him, narrowly missing the small hunks of metal that were hurling their way toward him. Veering off toward the wall, Dick forced his momentum from his run to help him twist his body in the air. _Fucking heavy ass Kevlar_.

Hearing the sound of a heavy body landing behind him, the gunman seemed to pause as if for that split second, fear had come to roost. It was all Batman needed to reach out and grab the ends of the gun in the man's hands, forcing it against his throat. Even though he could feel the heat of bullets sliding out of the barrel under his gloved fingers, he held still, pulling until the struggler went completely limp.

Dick was in the midst of letting the body slide to the floor when the sound of applause began to echo through the smoky hall. In the hazy glow he could only see the outline of someone making their way through the gaping hole he'd created. "I see where _she_ gets it." _Jason. _

"Someone had to teach her." He grunted, as he tightened a zip tie around the man's wrists and ankles.

"You should've warned her."

"About what?" No sooner had he lifted his head to look up at the Red Hood, did he feel something hard and heavy striking him across the head.

"About me."

Try as he may to fight it, Dick felt himself crumbling to the floor. "What are you—"

"I've waited a long time for this; I'm not letting you take it from me." He said, crouching down before him. "Now, I'm going to do what you won't." He added, smacking him on the top of his head. "Sorry, Dickey, but I'm not sorry."

Through the growing blur around his own vision, he could see the man climbing to his feet letting the crowbar in his hand dangle at his side as he moved closer to the body beside him. The still breathing body. "J…don't." But it was too late; the sound of a shot was ringing through his ears, dulling the next to a sound he could only hope was so far away. He could only feel Jason's shadow as the man stepped over him, more than aware of that tell-tale laugh bouncing through the halls. Without another sound, the Red Hood slipped deeper into the shadows letting that maniacal laugh pull him deeper into the darkness until Batman couldn't make out a trace of him. Either that or his eyes had finally given up the fight to stay open. Oh, but he could still hear those words echoing through the hall.

"It takes a monster to catch a monster."

* * *

Her breastbone felt like a bruise. Maybe it was from the ache in her lungs, lungs that had been so unwilling to breathe or maybe it was just the man's shoulder blade jabbing her in the chest again and again. _I swear, if I get the chance…I'm coming at you with everything I've got you son of a-_

"What do you think, Toots? Shall we see if Batsy can find us?" Without warning the floor was rushing toward her, or she was racing for it, but despite the tingling in her bones, Del felt nothing but the grooves of the tile indenting into her skin.

_The pool. _All it took was a chest full of chlorine soaked air and the girl knew exactly where they were. Leave it to the clown to run to the one place that had copious amounts of water while the rest of it burned. In the soft hum of the pool pump, she watched the man pull out a bag from under one of the lounge chairs. He's been in here before._ He's been in our house! The performers were here hours before…this…is all a part of his plan._

Watching him grin at the object he unsheathed from the bag, the nauseating clench of violation was slowly hardening into horror. _Bombs. _"Oh, you didn't think you were the only one who was gonna receive a present on your birthday, now did ya?" The words seemed to slither out of his mouth like a croon as he set up the devices. Why? Oh, the teen knew the answer. The Joker wanted chaos, death and Batman. Start the other two, and Batman was sure to come. There wasn't a person alive in Gotham who hadn't heard of this party. Gotham's upper crust, charities and children were all in the same place. Oh…it was the perfect event to get a laugh out of his handiwork and he had all that time to plan it. Fuck, it was nauseating.

As the clown pulled her off the floor by her tapped wrists, Del could feel the sweat beginning to bead down her back. "Batsy's not gonna know what hit 'em!" he crowed, spinning her around, not caring that the girl was all but fumbling out of her shoes or that he was nearly dragging her on the floor.

"Oh, trust me he knows what hit him." _Jason!_ Even as the room blurred together from blue to black she knew he was there, even if she couldn't see him. All of a sudden everything stopped and the Joker's arm was cutting across her throat, pinning her to his body.

"You know…when I wore that number it was classy." The words cut through the air with such bitterness that Del could feel it jabbing her. No, wait…that was a gun. Aw, fuck sticks.

"Classy? Or _old_?"

"You know what? You're not that amusing."

The sound of a bullet blasting from the barrel almost sounded like a flash-bang going off by her head. It was in that shrill ringing she could see the flashes of fire flicker through the dimness like lightning. And yet, somehow the Red Hood managed to dodge every shot as he came barreling from the doorway, hopping over lounge chairs and spiraling through the air to miss the bullets. _You may not get another chance. He's preoccupied._

Without warning, the girl swung her head back as hard as she could, wincing when she felt the back of her skull colliding into the bottom of the clown's mouth. "You little bitch!" The words felt like a growl as he shoved her, spitting blood and fragments of his yellowed teeth at her feet. In that split second the gun wasn't on the man in the mask. No. It was pointed at her. The floor was saturated; small blue tiles were now running red. _It's too much for a couple of teeth_. In the haze of Jason's return fire Del couldn't even feel the clown's oversized shoe crushing into her chest, or the feel of her body smacking through the surface of the water—but she could feel it crushing her as she sank to the bottom like a stone.

Everything was burning, her nose, her lungs and her eyes. And yet, the girl could only peer up through the water as bullets continued to rain down. Trying to avoid the stray bullets that were piercing the pool floor Del shoved herself along the bottom, letting gravity drag her deeper into the water as the floor gave away.

The brilliant shade of blue was slowly turning that old familiar color of a purplish- black, and while her heart hammered away in her ears, Del found herself fighting not to struggle, struggling would just make her drown faster. Feeling her knuckles brush against metal, the girl found herself craning her neck to peer through the murky light. _The drain_! _Maybe if I… _Pressing her wrists into the beveled edge, the girl could feel the metal cutting into her skin, but at least the binds were loosening bit by bit. Duct tape was no match for water and a rough edge. But just As Del could feel the tape coming free, her lungs caved under the strain, sending the last of her air out into the water in one hapless breath. The darkness had finally won.

* * *

She could feel the smoke scorching her throat long before she could see the flames. "Just a moment, Miss Cleary." Feeling Alfred's thing fingers digging into her arm, Sam stopped, pressing the heavy weight of the shotgun into her side. Watching the man rip a heap of towels out of the closet only to carry them into the bathroom, the girl began to understand. _To keep the flames at bay._ As one of those soaked towels was tossed over her, the girl had to fight not shudder as the water began to make its way down her back. But it wasn't the water or the crack of flames that made her stomach knot itself. It was the guttural scream coming out of that ten year old child in a cape. "Do try not to hit the bird." She heard Alfred murmur, as he rushed down the stairs with an arm full of dripping towels.

"Not a problem." She said, heavy up the heavy gun and steadying it on the banister. It took a few breaths but she focused the scope, trying not to rush for the trigger as she watched Robin become over taken by a mob. _Steady, Sammy, Steady. _Not wanting the rise and fall of her chest to move the gun, the girl took a deep scorching breath and squeezed the trigger. The body fell to the floor faster than the blast could echo through the room. Before any of them could turn their heads, Sam was already racking another round into the chamber, aiming and firing.

She could only hold her breath as Robin hit the ground, slinging his staff across the floor. With her fingers fumbling for more rounds, Sam could feel her lungs aching to breathe until something caught her eye—something that was small, frilly and quick.

The sound of another gun made her heart beat faster, and yet the girl could only stare as Robin was brought to the floor. No. No! They were almost free! They almost had the entire room emptied!Making it quick like a rabbit the child darted for the still spinning staff, snatching it before a clown could snap it up. "Give it here, Kiddy." Not sure of what else to do, Anabel slid her hands down the staff trying to weigh it in her small hands before she whacked the man right in the crown jewels. With the guy crumbling to the floor cupping his pride the girl made a break for Robin. No sooner did his gloved fingers wrap around the edge, did the girl feel the weight of a wet towel and the grip of an arm ripping her from the floor. Another shot cracked through the foyer letting another body collapse behind them in a heap.

The sudden feel of the cold made her skin feel raw, and yet, pressed almost painfully into Bruce Wayne's side, the girl could smell nothing but smoke. "That's nearly everyone, Master Bruce." Even in the wash of sirens and swirling lights, the child could still see the specks of blood that had dried to the man's face. Oh, the way he was looking at that house. She could only tug on Bruce's limp fingers and try not to squirm when he finally looked down. _Del? _The man's hands felt rough as they clasped over her fingers, stalling her signing as he kneeled down in the wet grass.

"Don't go back inside, you understand?"

Hearing the sound of a cough the girl didn't even bother to nod, but rather found herself craning to look around him. For a split second he seemed hopeful as he twisted about to see who was coming out of the smoke. He immediately got to his feet, helping Sam get to a safe spot on the lawn as the fire crews began to worm around her.

"A gun?" Sam gave a small half smile, letting the man practically drag her down the stairs.

"12 gage Ballistic bean bag rounds. They got enough kick to make a person see the back of their eyelids." That's right, Batman didn't do guns. But his butler sure as hell did. The words only seemed to make the man frown. "Del?"

"Not yet."

Oh, she could tell, she could tell he wanted to go inside and look for her himself. But even as Bruce set her free and made a motion for the door once more, the teen snagged them by the sleeve of his tux. "They'll find her; you getting in the way is not going to help."

Even in this dimness she could see that incredulous look souring his face, a look she would've been afraid of a few weeks back. "I'm-"

"Not tonight you aren't." But he certainly was a worried parent. His children were still inside. "They can do it, I know it."

"_Who are you_? Alfred 2.0?"

Sam thought to retort when a worried voice cut over the murmur. "Bruce!" It was enough to make them both turn to the man who was hobbling toward them on his cane. "Have you seen Tim? I can't find him."

* * *

_Dick! _With his dress shoes sliding through the blood on the floor, Tim found himself hopping over the bodies to get to the fallen bat. Sure the smoke was burning the back of this throat, and maybe something was soaking through the knees of his pants, but what did it matter? Digging through his pockets he let his fingers fist around the small tube of smelling salts as he pushed the groaning man over. "C'mon Bats." No sooner did he catch the flicker of the man's eyelids, did Tim pull himself from his haunches. "What the hell happened?"

"Hood."

"WHAT?! That-" But as Tim started for the darkness ahead of them, Batman's gloved fingers curled into the back of his coat.

"Nuh-uh. His ass is mine."

"And the Joker?"

"Leave him for the _real _Robin." Even with Batman's fingers fisted around the collar of his coat, Tim managed to turn, narrowing his eyes at the blood spattered Boy Wonder.

"You little-"

"We don't have time for that." With Dick's heavy hand bearing down on his shoulder, Tim had no choice but to bite back the words as he watched that smugness roll across Robin's face. "We all have a job to do. The second you can get to Del, take it."

"Already planning on it. Why do you think I'm still here?" He hissed, shrugging him off as they trudged through the darkness, letting the sound of gunfire and madness lead the way. "I'm not leaving without her."

* * *

He didn't know what he expected to see moving in the dimness of the pool's reflection, but it wasn't this. In the last flash of gunfire, he found the Red Hood advancing on the clown, batting the gun from his pale fingers with a sound that he wasn't sure was human. The gun flew from the clown's fingers, clattering to the pool of blood at the clown's feet. But even as Batman and Robin cut around him, Tim could only search the dimness. Del, where the hell was Del?! "By the end of the night you're going to remember who I am, you scum sucking pile of shit!"

The room only seemed to echo with the sound of metal breaking bone, and yet here he was ripping off his coat, eyes on the water as if it were holding secrets. He couldn't see her there and yet every part of him was propelling him forward. Without any provocation other than an ache to know, he dove. There she was, bobbing just above the floor of the pool. With a chest full of air, relief and panic, he scooped up and broke for the surface, where the sound of turmoil was waiting. "How does that feel?! You remember me now?!

"C'mon, Del, C'mon." Under the shadow of a crowbar, Tim shoved the girl out of the pool, feeling the bite of panic as her head lolled to the side. _She's not breathing. Shit! Shit! Shit! _Scrambling to free himself from the water, the boy sank to his knees beside her trying to ignore the tremor in his hands as he tilted her head back. _This wasn't how it was it was supposed to be._ This wasn't what he imagined when he would finally place his mouth on hers, forcing her chest to rise with the force of his breath. With the thoughts still teasing him, he had no choice but to lace his fingers over his fist and watch her body jolt under his hands as he counted chest compressions.

"Red, this isn't going to solve-"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Red Hood drawing his gun with his free hand to point it at the bat. He wasn't going to let go of that crowbar. "What the fuck do you know? Huh, _Batman_?" Glancing up Tim could only watch as Dick dropped down and swept the legs out from under the masked man. No sooner did he crash to the floor did the Joker see the chance to flee. Or he did until Robin broke his path, expectantly smacking that staff into his hand. But Tim couldn't keep his eyes on them, he only pressed his lips to Del's once more, trying not to taste regret with every breath he shoved into her lungs.

"Oh, _COME ON!_ You're too stubborn to be taken out by a fucking clown!" There's no way, there's no way the Joker could be the end of her! "BREATHE DAMN IT!" Midway through his count and the sound of his rising panic, her body jumped beneath his hands giving to the sound of choking gasps.

"I resent that."

Tim didn't even lift his head to the man as he turned Del to her, side, feeling her shake under his hands as she coughed up water. "Oh yeah? I'll give you something to resent." _Huh, what'd ya you know, Demon Spawn and I can finally agree on something._ So much so that when the child's raging cry echoed over Dick's threats, he pretended he couldn't hear the sound of a muscles and bones giving in under the weight of a blunt object. The kid could try and pretend he hated Del's guts all he wanted, but in the end, it only boiled down to one thing. The clown had taken the wrong hostage.

"You almost let her _die_! Are you so blinded by your hatred that you can't see that?! Is _that_ the price you wanted to pay?!" Watching Dick rip the crowbar from Jason's hands, Tim could feel his breath catching in his lungs as the thing came down on the man's side. It was almost as if he could hear the sound of his ribs breaking. And just like that Batman tossed the crowbar into the pool. "Kingdom Come, remember?" Feeling Del's fingers digging into his leg, Tim ripped his gaze from them letting his head tilt toward the girl's soft gurgling. Even as he tried to still her, she was still fighting to stand.

"Bomb." The word was nothing more than a hoarse whisper, and yet it was enough to make his blood run cold.

"_What?" _

"BOMB!" At the sound of the word tearing from her, the room went silent…say for the manic echoes of a madman.

"And time's almost up! In 3…2…" The stillness that had creeped in had turned into nothing but frenzied motion. In the space of those words, the water was broken again with the weight of Jason's body as he was heaved into the water. Del could only glance up long enough to see Dick rushing in to grab Damian before she was rolled right back into the pool, pressed into Tim's chest as a brilliant flash of flames and smoke rippled out just over their heads.

Clawing for the surface, Del found nothing but flames, smoke and the crowing of a clown. Struggling to keep her head above water the girl clung to the side of the pool, feeling her hands rifle through the tacky pools of blood for the gun as the battered clown jogged for exit.

"Playtime is over when I say it's over!"

"Del, no!" But the girl squeezed the trigger, watching the man fold at the knee as a bullet ripped through the back of his kneecap. Just as the water rose over her head again, she could feel Jason twisting the gun out of her hands while Tim was hoisting her back up, letting her shaking body fall to the floor. God why couldn't she stand up? Fighting to get to her hands and knees, she could feel Jason's shadow looming over her as he pulled himself out of the pool. But Tim reached her first, stopping him from advancing any further.

"You've done enough don't you think?"

"Del…"

Clinging to Tim to keep herself upright, Delilah let him pull her arm around his shoulder. "Not…now…Jase… not…now." The words felt like they were just tumbling out of her mouth. Jesus, all she wanted was for the room to stop spinning. But as Tim helped her to the door she could see Batman's cape splaying out across the floor next to that thing in the purple suit.

"I didn't kill him..." She uttered.

"Why couldn't you aim for something practical? Like his head?"

Tilting her head back to look at the red masked man felt like a bad idea. It just made all the blood rush to her ears. "Because…death's just an easy way out for him." She murmured, half watching Damian as he shoved Jason to the side to take up her other slack arm and half watching Batman as he hoisted the clown up by a pair of handcuffs.

"Party Pooper."

* * *

Delilah wasn't sure when she lost the sound of Jason's boots; she only realized he wasn't there following them anymore. With her arms awkwardly stretched out between Tim and Robin, she hobbled slowly through the charred remains of the first floor. The fire hadn't reached every corner, but it had certainly left its mark. Cutting through the fire crews and the still glowing embers, Del's lungs greedily took in the winter air as she staggered out into a world of lights and blanketed survivors.

"There they are!" The girl could barely hobble down the stairs before she felt her body slam into a wall, a wall that was layered in stiff cloth and smelled of fire and blood. Half aware of his sigh of relief and the mournful murmur of what was left of the turmoil, Del collapsed into the hold of her father's arms.

"I really…really…hate clowns." She muttered, trying to ignore how weak she felt, clinging to him like a child who was just about to weep, and yet she only watched the uniforms build around the bat as they collected the clown.

"There's still quite a few still waiting inside. Zip-tied and ready to go." But just on the fringe of her blurring vision she could see that tuff of a tutu bouncing up the steps. _I don't even have the strength to lift my head…_

* * *

Feeling someone snatch up his hand, Damian felt a jolt shuddering through his body. His first instinct was to rip his hand away and yet here Ana was pulling on him. Didn't she know who he was? What he was capable of? When he didn't budge, her hands went to the air. _Come with me! Please! _

The boy immediately rolled his eyes. _Why? _But as his own fingers stilled, the girl paused, glaring up at him as she tapped her arm. The same spot he knew to be scarred with the unfinished mark of circles. Damian only pried her fingers off and hopped down the stair, twisting his head to glance at the confused girl. "Well then?!" It was all he needed to say to have her scampering down the stairs and weaving him through the crowd that had taken up the front lawn of Wayne Manor.

He thought to ask her where the hell she was taking him as she paused at the back end of ambulance, but the voices reached him first. "And you don't know who did this to you?"

"No! It was all happening so fast. It was some guy in a clown mask!"

Pushing around the uniforms, Damian eyed the sobbing ballerina and the bubbling red burns protruding from her arm. _Circles…nine of them._

"When?!" The young woman only seemed blindsided by Robin's snapping voice. Flinching under the gloved fingers of the paramedics, she smeared her tears on her cheek.

"I-I don't know. It was before they rounded us up...I-" But the boy was shoving his way back through the small group of officers only to have Grayson fall to his side.

"We have a problem."

"No kidding. Or does it take a bunch of clowns and shiny lights for you to make that deduction?"

"Someone _let_ him out. He didn't break out." Grayson wasn't walking beside him anymore; it was enough to make him stop in his tracks.

"Who?"

"You already know the answer to that, don't you? Gordon just showed me the surveillance footage." Standing there in the damp grass, Damian could feel his fingers gripping into fists. "They think the league has a hand in this somehow. "

"Go ahead, ask me…ask me if I knew! I'm sure you're already assuming that I-"

Batman's shadow seemed to shorten with a sigh. "Did you?"

"NO!" He roared, half aware of the pintsized ballerina that was standing so cautiously off to his side. With a deep breath Damian clenched his fists and untangled them again. _Mother. _"We have another problem, he said suddenly, his words much calmer than before. "One of the ballerinas was branded with the nine circles in the midst of the panic. They were here, right under our noses." In the flicker of lights changing from blue to red and back again, he could see Grayson clenching his jaw, but a certain voice had stolen his attention.

"Del, what's wrong?" But across the courtyard, the boy could only see his sister folding limply to the ground bringing their father to the grass with her. "Del!" The closer he got he realized that his father's hands were slick with blood. His eyes immediately went to his side, the same side his sister's body was resting against just moments ago. It too was blood soaked. The realization felt heavy on his chest, heavier than he ever conceived it would be. Del had been bleeding out from a gunshot wound all that time. His mother might just get what she wanted. Strange, in that second, watching their father press his hands over the gaping hole as he called for help he realized…it wasn't what he wanted.

* * *

**A/N: **And there you have it! I'm gonna admit, there's quite a bit in this chapter that plays a role in the things that take place in the sequel. I also wanted to put out there, that I'm looking for a beta reader to double check the updated chapters when the time comes. I know my chapters are quite long. I'm hoping that once I complete the whole thing I can shorten it down some. So if anyone's interested, please feel free to message me. **Next Chapter**: _A price too steep - _Gee, I wonder who that's going to be centered around? Be prepared, Talia has some things to answer for. Any questions or concerns, please feel free to share them!


	25. A Price Too Steep

Jesus Christ, what could he say to this man? There weren't any words that could make this right. Even as Dick found himself growing closer a few steps at a time, nothing was coming to him. What do you say…in the face of death? What do you say when the words 'I'm sorry' are rendered cheap and hollow? With the cave wall biting into the pads of his fingers, Dick forced himself to stop at the bottom of the stairs, wincing at the sound of Bruce's curses as he ripped off the cowl. Watching the man sweep everything from the surface of the bat-computer to the floor, the young man held his ground. What do you do…when your hero hits rock bottom?

There was something about watching this man bend under the weight of grief that made everything seem so surreal. Since when did Bruce Wayne's head become so heavy? Since when did he crumble? Where was that iron clad resolve? Glancing up to the top of the stairs Dick forced himself to take a breath. It was now or never.

"Bruce?" There was a second or two where he could almost believe the Bruce hadn't heard him. He seemed to lift his head out of hands long enough to pluck up a sticky note that was still clinging to counter. He could only hold his breath as the man pulled his gloves off to smooth the small paper with his bare fingers.

"What?!"

"They're here."

Saying nothing at all, Bruce yanked off the cape, seemingly unfazed by the broken test tubes and coffee cups at his feet. He only stopped to pick up a small velvet box from the ground. If Dick knew any better he was certain he could see something swimming in that man's gaze, tides of anguish and regret. Watching him toss the box into his chair so callously, Dick flattened himself along the wall as the man passed him without a glance. He could only try to keep up with him as he huffed up the stairs at that determined pace.

Reaching the soft glow of the world upstairs didn't slow Bruce down. He only seemed to glance up to the second floor as Jason's bedroom door slammed shut. But without comment he ripped the front door open, just as the headlights scraped along the house. Caught in the doorway, Dick kept his shadow still as it stretched out across the lawn, the faint light revealing Alfred's patient face as he peeled himself from the car. "I can take-"

"I've got it, Alfred." Watching Bruce pull open the car door, Dick was so unsure what he'd see in this weak light that was spilling out from behind him. He knew that somewhere in that backseat was the only piece of Paige that was still alive, he didn't expect her to come tumbling out, or that the weight of her little body could bring Batman to his knees.

* * *

He could still remember the weight of her head on his shoulder. Even now, it was like he could still feel that sticky little cheek pressing into his neck, he could still feel the involuntary twitch of her fingers as she made fists in her sleep…it was if she was still fighting.

With every step up the stairs he was sure he'd jar her awake, and yet by some miracle, the steady rise and fall of her rib cage never changed. "I wasn't able to grab any of her personal things I'm afraid…" Alfred Pennyworth knew how to be soft spoken when needed, but the thickness of his voice forced the man to pause right there on the stairs, cradling the living doll in his arms. There was a moment he thought opening his mouth would stir the child and yet, he found himself cradling her head as if carrying the child was nothing new to him. It was only the second time he could recall ever holding this girl in those last four years. Why did it have to make him realize he never wanted to let her go? _This wasn't supposed to happen_.He wanted to make a change in their lives, but this? This wasn't it.

Realizing Alfred was still waiting on a response, Bruce cleared away the sudden ache in his throat. "We'll make do." He uttered, pausing when the girl's breath hitched. Standing so still he realized he could smell the burn of gun powder and the overwhelming metallic odor of blood. Oh…her nightgown. It was all but stiff with her mother's blood. GCPD was going to want that for evidence. But they could have it after_ he_ cataloged it. "We just need her medication…" He said slowly. "And…her Batman."

"I'm sure the scripts could be called in, Sir." Alfred said with a tilt of his head. "As for her Batman, don't you think she has that right now?" Bruce didn't even bother to reply, he simply continued up the stairs with the old man's shadow in his wake.

_Yes, yes she does. _He wasn't sure why, but the moment he reached the landing, he found himself back inside that house, watching Paige pull their daughter to the floor under the flash of gunfire. Paige had done everything in her power to protect her, even in those last moments…now it was up to him to keep this child safe. _Their _child. Feeling Del's small fingers twitch back into tiny fists, Bruce couldn't help but squeeze the child tighter. _You don't have to fight alone anymore, that I promise you._

* * *

"Any word?" Bruce wasn't sure what jarred him first, the fact that someone had actually ripped him from his thoughts or that Gisele Devereux was standing there in there before him with set of worried hazel eyes that looked all too familiar. Lifting his head from his hand, the man forced himself to sit up, dismissing the lingering memories with the shake of his head.

"No…nothing. She's still in surgery." Like him, the old woman was still garbed in her evening attire. _She came straight here…_ Perhaps he and the old Dragon Lady had the same weaknesses. The old woman seemed only to sink down in a row of empty chairs across from him, muttering curses in French as if he couldn't hear her.

It was strange silence, had it not been for the hum of Gotham Memorial in the background, he might've gone mad. It wasn't like he and this women ever had much to say. Not that he and Paige's grandmother had_ ever_ been on good terms. "She's…become quite bold." The woman murmured suddenly. "I don't know how you managed to pull that off." _Bold_. Translation: Delilah gave the woman and earful and then some. If she wanted to hear an apology she wasn't about to get one.

"She is her mother's daughter. I can't take credit for that." Bruce stated, watching the woman slip in a nod as she wrung her wrinkled hands together. Paige had been the only grandchild with enough gall to push back when Gigi threw her weight around. Was the woman really that surprised that her great-granddaughter was no different? Looking at this woman now, this woman who was crumbled and slack faced in that pathetic blue chair with her gown and jewels, he almost thought he should take it easy on the old girl. They both smelled of smoke, even now. But as those double doors cracked open, the thought dissipated. Watching someone in blue scrubs slip out, Bruce found himself springing to his feet.

"Mr. Wayne…we have a problem." At that point he wasn't sure he was breathing anymore.

* * *

"Any word?"

"_None yet, Miss. But with Elliot gone, they certainly seem to be struggling to keep her alive." _

"Anything changes tell me immediately." Not even waiting for a response, Talia pulled her headset away, letting it fall across the keyboard as she stretched her arms to the ceiling like a satisfied cat. "Check, my beloved. Now it's your turn." Closing the lid of her laptop the woman let the glow of the city pull her from her chair. Oh, this pock on the world. How could he insist on protecting these ruthlessly oblivious people? Strange, why was it such strong men crawled from this hungry cesspool? Perhaps it was the perfect place to mold Damian into the Alexander he was meant to be.

Maybe it was sheer instinct that brought the fine hairs on her neck to attention, or maybe it was just pure skill that told her to beware. As the smooth sheet of glass under her hand splintered into a web of cracks, Talia hit the floor, feeling the wind of a bullet scrape her cheek. As the curtain of glass came down upon her, the woman could only duck, as the sound of shots finally reached her ears, bringing her own bursting through the doors like it was a call to arms. Only one person was this brazen_. Jason. _"Find him and bring him to me!"

But as the woman crawled back to her desk under the haze of gunfire, she found herself sinking into bloody pools and stumbling over bodies, even as she watched the ninja take the darkness under her command. "You little bastard." Feeling a round scrape across her arm, Talia reached blindly in her desk for her weapon, even as the room grew eerily silent with only the sound of blood gurgling in the back of the throats of the fallen.

"Looking for this?" Feeling the barrel of her own gun press into her temple, she cursed listening to the hammer cock back. As the young man's shadow blocked out the moonlight, she had no choice but to think of her next option. But as the woman made a grab for the sword under her desk, she felt his fingers gripping into her hair, yanking her across the glass littered floor. Only when he dragged her to the middle of the room did he release her, wagging his gloved finger at her like he was chiding a naughty child. "You and I need to have a serious discussion." He said quietly as he pressed his boot into the body in front of her.

"You've grown bold, Jason." She said evenly, watching him lift that mask from his face. Even in this light she could see the soft white hairs that the Lazarus pit had left behind. Maybe father was right, maybe she'd created a monster. Reaching up to her hair, she could see his dark blue eyes watching her, oh he knew she wasn't unarmed even as she sat here in her robe with a bunch of dead bodies surrounding her. "Perhaps too bold!" She cried, slashing at him the second she let her fingers skim behind her back for the largest shard of glass she could find. But even as the blood started to roll down his throat, the man only jumped to his feet, twisting her wrist as he forced her to the floor with his foot.

"You have a lot to answer for." He breathed, feeling her chest rise under his boot. Her other hand was pinned beneath her own back, but if she got it free, it would certainly mean trouble. "Why did you send _him_?! Why _him_ Talia?!"

Even as she was pinned to the floor, he could see that devious smile brightening her shadowed face. "Oh? So you did notice? He had a purpose to serve and he served it well." With the words came the weight of his foot. And somehow, even though he could feel her ribs sinking under the sole of his boot, the woman tilted her head back and laughed, letting the glass in her hand slip to the floor. "Surprised Little Bird? I mean to clear the way, and you were taking too long." She said with a sniff as the man's sneer twisted. Oh, now what did that mean? Slowly working her hand out from under the weight of her own body the woman swung for his face, satisfied to feel the glass shards in her hands to catch into his cheek. "Why have you taken so long?!" She snapped, stealing the chance to knock him off balance.

The second he rolled to get out of the close range she sprang to her feet. "Why are you here? What are you upset about Jason? Was it the clown?" She asked, sweeping the glass off her robe, despite the little rivulets of blood she could feel running down her legs. "Or maybe it's not the clown at all." She teased, watching him aim his gun for her. "It is her…isn't it?" Now she was laughing again. "You care for her! You care for the twit!"

"I should be the only one to kill her."

"Jason…Jason…Jason." Even under her chiding he didn't seem to flinch, he merely rose to his feet. "Who are you trying to-"

"Me and no one else!" As his voice rose, over the din of the city that was now leaking in, the woman sighed. "It's personal" He added, closing the space between them with the sound of glass breaking under his weight. In this light that fire in his eyes only seemed to burn brighter.

"You never play with your prey like this."

"Oh? And you don't?" He asked, grabbing the woman by the chin. "You're _not_ toying with Bruce?"

"And what are you trying to prove my little bird?" When he didn't answer the woman felt her lips twist. "You're so full of vengeance. Are you willing to rip her heart out when the time comes?" Watching his long shadow nod, she took the gun out of his hand, letting the rounds spill at her feet.

"Go then. If the ninny survives I'll leave her demise in your hands."

"And only me, or else it won't mean anything."

"Yes. Now go." She snapped, paying no attention to his shadow as it skimmed across the walls. "Jason, the time will come. If you can't do as you're commanded you'll die right along with her." Feeling nothing at her back but the wind Talia frowned at the sea of glass and blood. "He always makes a mess." Stepping over the bodies in her way the woman paused at the broken window, feeling the night air numb the cuts along her skin. _Soon, Beloved. So very soon. _The man would be in her hands long before he knew what happened.

* * *

_You idiot, she knows now! She knows they can't control you._ Fuck it. He could fake it right? With each rooftop carrying him further and further away, it wasn't long before he found himself staring up at the pale white structure that stuck out from the darkness like a sore thumb. _Gotham Memorial. _Why the hell was he here? If he was smart he'd stay the hell away from here. Away from _her_. And yet his heavy legs would only let him move in one direction. _Is this the price you're willing to pay? _"Awe, fuck you, Dick, stay out of my head." _But you didn't even think about her…all you wanted was to feed the monster. _Jesus, did _she_ have to be in his head too? Was nothing sacred?

He couldn't even remember making it through the halls, dodging the employees in scrubs and long white coats. _What are you doing? _"I just…I just have to make sure…" _ Well it's not like they're gonna put the name on the door for you, it's too high profile, you fuck-tard. _

"I'm just going to run and grab a few things for Miss Wayne. I should be back shortly." Hearing Alfred's voice echo through the halls, Jason pulled himself into the shadow of a small cove of closets as he watched the man pull a couple officers aside. Bruce actually trusted those GCPD slime balls? Or was the man that fucking desperate? Watching Alfred disappear into the elevator bay down the hall, he counted his breathes, watching the officers slowly come complacent as they lulled against the wall or sank into a nearby chair. He wasn't even sure what his hand was lifting for until the fire alarm screeched out, sending the entire hall into disarray and that included getting thing one and thing two off their asses.

No sooner had they scurried down the hall did Jason dart for the door. He couldn't even remember breathing as he slid into that room. But one look at that silhouette in the light of the cityscape, and the air came slithering out of him. Closing the gap without so much as a sound, he could only feel his gut falling to his feet. Why'd she look so pale and fragile now with all these IV's attached to her like webbing? Even as he scanned the bags on the pole, he could feel his mouth running dry. _Blood. Had she lost that much? I can't even remember her being shot…damn it._ Pressing in closer, he could only half smile at the object that was choking in the crook of her slender arm. "A little old for a Batman Doll aren't you?"

He wasn't sure why but his fingers were reaching out on their own accord, sweeping back the fine strands of her hair that had tangled over her face. "I'm sorry…I should've been there for you." He whispered, the voice sounding unfamiliar to his own ears. "I couldn't let it go. I couldn't…let _him_ go. Not even for you." Cupping her cool cheek in his hand, he leaned over the rail of the bed. Even as he pressed his forehead against hers, even though he could feel the sweep of her exhales on his own face…all he could feel was bitterness. Why did just being near her make him feel like he still had the chance to make it right again?

* * *

Every part of him ached to react the moment that long lanky shadow slithered closer to Del's bed, and yet his curiosity kept him still. _Wait and see._ He told himself, letting his own breath slip out of him without a sound as Jason's form pressed over the railing of the bed. _Wait._ Watching his shadow all but meld into hers, he could feel the tips of his fingers began to itch. "I'm…" Watching him lift his hand, the man couldn't help but feel his adrenaline spike, but Jason's hands were empty. "…sorry." When, when could he express such tenderness? "Fuck, I'm always apologizing to you aren't I?" He asked, brushing the hair from the girl's face. The moment that _man's_ lips touched her skin, all rational thinking fizzled into nothingness. He was done waiting.

Jason didn't hear him coming, but the second he felt his body slam face first into that cinderblock wall, he knew it was too late. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" _Bruce. _Maybe a part of him should have seen this coming, maybe it wasn't that surprising. _Did you really think he'd leave her unguarded? _Feeling the blood trickling down his face, Jason worked his had free, ready to plant his elbow into the man's ribs, but no sooner had he taken his shot did he feel that bone catch in the man's hand. In the next breath the word was shifting. He was staring up at that paralyzing gaze from the flat of his back. "That's my daughter, Jason." But even as the man hissed his warning Jason could only peel himself from the floor, trying not to let the man know that he definitely had his bell rung.

"And?"

"She's fifteen years old!"

"Sixteen, Daddy-Bats" _Oooh, you mad? Good. Be mad. _Well, this wasn't how he expected his long awaited meeting to go. But even as Bruce made fists in the collar of his coat, Jason couldn't quite dispel the smirk on his face. "Nice to see you too."

"What are you up to Jason?"

"I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. You'd kill me." Jason gave a shrug as the man's jaw tightened. "Oh, well…you'd threaten to kill me at least." Now the man ripped him off the floor, despite how much he weighed, Bruce could still manage to lift him. Huh, the old man still had some umph to him.

"You're right, I wouldn't kill you." He said evenly. "I'd just make you wish I would."

"Now where was that resolve all those years ago? How come you couldn't go after _him_ like that? Or does only blood matter to you that much? How come you don't make him wish for death?"

"You don't understand."

"Oh, I understand all right-" But the words stuck there as the door began to slide open shedding light into the darkness. No sooner had Bruce turned his head, did Jason put a closed fist into the man's chest, staggering him just enough to make a go for the window just as the silhouettes in the hall began to take shape.

"Leave her alone, Jason."

"I can't do that. The stakes are too high." Without another word he leapt from the window, feeling the man's disappointed scowl burning at his back.

* * *

_This room. This place. Something's wrong. _But as the girl pulled herself from the floor she found herself so unsure of the echo of laughter that rang in her ears. All these people, couldn't they tell? Couldn't they feel that something was wrong? But they just continued, laughing and carrying on in their own oblivious world of glitz, glam and champagne. But even as the chorus of merriment carried on, she could feel the dryness of smoke scraping the back of her throat_. Smoke? Fire! _The foyer was filling with it, squeezing on her lungs until the coughing started. "We have to get out!" _They're not even looking at me. _The clouds only seemed to grow, and no matter whose arm she pulled on, or who she begged, they didn't so much as move. "Why won't you try to save yourselves?!" Nothing. They just continued to sip on their champagne and grin as the flames grew higher.

"Del?" for just a moment there was a prick of relief, as she spun on her heel toward that familiar voice.

"Dad! Dad we have to-" _Wait…there's blood on his shirt._

"Del, what have you done?" What was this? What was this heavy weight in her hands? Looking down at the gun in her hands, the girl could feel the bile inching up her throat. _Get away, hurry, something isn't right._ In the rush to get away she fell, landing hard on the blood soaked floor as she tripped over the body behind her. _Dr. Elliot! Oh, God I- _The gun slipped from her fingers as she scrambled backwards on her hands to put some space between them. "Dad I-" Glancing up, she could see the people tilting their heads back to drain their glasses, and yet as the blood started to pour out from their eyes, Del could only feel that scream building in her chest. _No!_

"You don't know how to save them do you?" At the sound of that strange sound mixing with her father's voice Delilah paused, aware of the bodies that were falling down around them. "I have a secret for you, Toots." _Toots? Oh, No. no, no. _ Watching him dig his fingers into his face, Del could only feel herself growing cold with the dread as her father's face peeled away as if it were nothing more than a mask.

"You can't save them." It was like the clown had taken his body over. And yet, as he lifted that glass of champagne to his wide red lips, she could only grasp at the air.

"NO! Don't!" No sooner had he tilted his head back for a laugh, did that laugh turn into the sound of gurgling blood, letting the body become whole once more. "DAD!" He fell to the ground in a pool of red just like the rest of them. _You can't save them. You can't even save yourself._

"Del! Del, stop it!" _Oh, God, I can't breathe. I can't breathe! _And yet she found herself being crushed further and further with every gasp that seemed to flee from her on its own accord. "It's just a dream….It's just a dream."

_Six were found dead in their Gotham home tonight, and while police have yet to give any word on the cause, it's believed to be that the product tampering has stretched even further than the Zesti Cola scare. The source? Champagne… _

In the painfully bright glow of the television, Del found herself mashed into her father's chest in a tangle of tubes and sweat soaked hair. But even as she dug her nails into the soft fabric of his t-shirt that smelled of fire and blood all the girl could hear was the shrill beep of the heart monitor. The ache in her chest only seemed to burn as her father's weight sank down on the edge of her bed, peeling her face from his shirt with careful hands. "One….two…"

"Three…four…" The words felt so dry coming out of her mouth, and yet, with her face trapped between her father's palms, she forced herself to make it to ten, filling her lungs until she was sure they'd burst, but at least the monitor wasn't in a panic anymore. With the force of her father's hand, Del let herself flop back against the stiff pillows, cursing as she tangled herself in the maze of tubes that were stretching out above her head.

"Easy, just relax." Watching her father's arm stretch out to untangle her mess, Delilah could only reach out to the brightly colored tourniquet that was wrapped around his arm. The moment her fingers wrapped around the spot as far as they could go, he paused.

"You…" Ah, that explained the warm red tubes she could feel traveling down her arm.

"They were having a shortage and you were losing blood faster than they could put it in." He said, waiting for her fingers to fall from that tender spot. "Scared the hell out of me, Kid." He added, watching her face grow paler with each painful breath. Was it disbelief or bewilderment he saw on her face? _I'd do anything for you, don't you know that? _"Your left lung and liver lobe are smaller than they used to be, but you'll live."

"Is everyone…did-did everyone…"

"Everyone got out in time. There were a few suffering from smoke inhalation, and the girl with the acid burns…but everyone's going to be fine."

"Everyone but…Doc." As her words croaked out of her, she could feel her father's fingers growing still on her hairline. "Dad…Dad, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." What was she apologizing for more? The fact that her father had just lost one of his childhood friends? Or the fact she felt relief when she realized the bullet had torn through someone other than him? "If-if I hadn't-"

"No. Not another word. Don't let him destroy you like that." _Like he destroyed you? _ Peering up at the shadows in his face, Del felt the words stall in her throat. How long had he been sitting there? As he eased himself back into his chair, she could see the shape of his dress shirt and coat hanging off the back. _Jesus, he hasn't even been able to change his clothes yet._

Forcing a sigh, the girl sank into the foreign feel of the hospital bed, blinking against the halo of the nightly broadcast. First _Zesti Cola…now champagne? _"Weren't we…serving the same champagne at the party?" She croaked, feeling her father's fingers go still in the tangle of her hair.

Her father only scanned the screen for a moment before pulling himself to his feet. "We never got to that point." He said, as he fished his phone from his pocket. "And that's probably a good thing." He added as he slipped out into the hall. "Dick, I have something else I need you to grab…"

* * *

She wasn't sure when she lost sound of her father's voice or when the weight of her eyelids became too heavy to bear or even what pulled her from her dreamless sleep. But as the girl pried her eyes open to a room that had turned to the color of a flame, she found nothing but an orchestra of soft snores. Jax, she realized was curled in the crook of her knees. Her father was still in that chair, but at least he'd stolen a few minutes to shower and change his clothes. Dick had himself propped against the wall with his long spindly legs stretched the floor. But as Del focused her eyes she found a small silhouette pressed along the window pane. She could see the boy pressing his hands into his back as he stood there silently judging the sunlight that was breaking over the cityscape. What weight was pressing on his shoulders now?

It took her a moment to untangle herself from the twisted sheets and snarled tubes. Even as she worked her feet over the bed, the floor came fast. For the briefest of moments the ache in her chest was completely forgotten when she stumbled to the floor, afraid that the sound of her body hitting the tile could wake hundreds. Okay, maybe not hundreds, just Dick. She was still gnawing on that unbidden curse when she realized he'd grabbed her by the arms. "Don't." She snapped, shrugging away from him. "I can get up on my own." _He always rushes in to save me, they all do. _Under Damian's curious gaze and the looming of Dick's massive shadow, Del worked herself back to her feet, gripping to the IV stand to pull herself up. _You can't even save yourself. _

"You need to get back in bed." Dick stated trying to clear his throat as Del wobbled to her feet, gripping the front of her hospital gown as if she were trying to hold her chest together. "Or…you can be a stubborn ass and ignore me completely." He muttered watching her stagger to the window. "_Stubborn ass _it is."

Spying a file laying at the boy's feet, the girl slid into a crouch, trying not to think about the masses that were building up on the streets below. Peeling the folder open, Del could feel the bile rushing up her throat as she stared at the blank faced child in her bloodied nightgown holding out her torn hands for the officers to see. _It's…me._ "Are you still going to Arkham?" Damian asked suddenly, not even glancing at her.

Del could only shut the folder and pull herself up. _Why the hell are you pulling my files? _But the words never came out, she just nodded her head. "What aren't you telling me?" She asked at last, tossing the folder to the floor. Even in the reflection of the window she could see Dick squeezing the back of his neck. Her father had pulled his heavy head from his hand and was staring intently at their backs with that same hard gaze that the little girl in the photographs had on her own face.

"One of the ballerinas was branded with the nine circles last night during the commotion."

"Is Sissy safe?" She asked twisting away from the melting sunrise. Strange, such things always brought her peace and yet all she could fee was bitterness as standing there in its warmth.

"She and her aunt should have landed in Metropolis an hour ago." Dick said, jamming his hands into the worn pockets of his jeans. But that didn't stop the girl's movements as she went straight for the duffel bag that Alfred had left sitting on a chair.

"That doesn't mean they're not following her."

"Del, what are you doing?"

"Getting dressed. I want to get the hell out of here." Dick could feel his shoulders sliding as the girl yanked a set of clothes from the bag. She could hardly catch her breath.

"You just had a part of your lung and liver removed!" Why was Bruce just sitting there? Why the hell was he just staring at her like that? "Bruce. Bruce, c'mon you gotta tell her." But as the words reached the girl's ears she went s till as stone. Finally, maybe this madness would stop.

"Tell me...what?" She whispered, remembering that she was still pulling her boots free. But as the girl continued to struggle to rip them loose of the bag, he felt her father's hands stilling her own.

"Del…stop." The words were so soft. Soft enough to prick her with worry. "Just stop."

"Let go, Dad." And yet the man did no such thing. He simply picked up the bag and flung it to the floor. "_Dad!_ What the-" No sooner had she turned to retrieve it, did she find herself trapped in his grip with nowhere to go.

"I'm wasting time!"

"Damian. Out." _Wait…what? Why are you sending Damian out?_ But the girl couldn't see the boy's face, not when her own face was all but mashed into their father's chest. "Now, Damian." _What's going on? _"Take Jax for a walk or something." Listening to dog's tags clink together as he slid from the bed she knew the boy was heading for the door.

"Dad…this kind of hurts." She groaned into his shirt, feeling his weight pressing on the sutures beneath her hospital gown. Her father simply let his arms slide to his side.

"You can't do this anymore. You're done."

"Huh?"

"Remember the deal?" he asked, tilting her head up at him. "If something happens, you'll stop? Your words right?"

_Wait! No! No way! _"It was just a-" But he was shaking his head at her.

"It's not about last night." Now he looked away, glancing up at the ceiling as if he could've been asking for divine intervention or something. "After your surgery, I had them run some scans on your heart." _I'm not going to like this; I can see it in your face. _"They found scarring of a heart attack."

"What? B-but…I-I never-"

"They said it's possible you weren't even aware that it was happening."

"L-last night?! Or-"

"No. They think it was a couple months old."

"The night you had to pull Damian up the ledge…" Dick said suddenly, reminding her he was still in the room. "We thought then that…" _That's why_. _That's why they wanted him out of the room. _

"But it was a couple months ago! I feel fine!" She cried, wincing as the words rubbed her throat raw. "Okay, I feel like I was shot, but other than that-"

"Delilah."

"No. Don't ask me to quit, don't do that." She managed, wringing herself out of his arms.

"Then you're-"

"You can't _fire_ me either!" She spat. "It doesn't work like that! Not for me!" Stepping back before he could reach for her she swiped her things off the floor and darted into the bathroom, more than aware she had shut the door in someone's face.

_Jesus, Paige what am I supposed to do? I can't let her do this anymore. She'll die if she keeps going on like this. I can't lose her too._ Pressing against the doorjamb, he could see Dick's body collapsing with a sigh. "Well…that went well." Bruce could do nothing but let his head loll against the wall as he listened to his daughter's smothered curses under the shrill ring of Dick's phone. "And that would be Tim—what'cha got for us, Timmy."

"_Nothing good." _

At that Bruce pried himself from the wall and closer to the phone.

"_They came back positive. We were damn lucky we never made it to the toasting. But I've got more bad news guys. There were a couple bottles missing from the case." _

"Shit."

"There haven't been any new developments, so whoever took them hasn't opened them yet." Bruce managed, listening to the door unlatch behind him.

"Try cross referencing any fingerprints that shouldn't be on the case with the guest list. My guess is it's someone young and dumb…so it's probably a classmate."

"_Will do." _

Even as he could hear Dick hanging up the phone, Bruce could see his daughter collecting her coat, still dead set on leaving this godforsaken place not that he could blame her. "If you're right and it's a teenager…why wouldn't you open it right away?"

At Dick's words the girl paused, blowing out a steady breath as she eyed the floating tiles in the ceiling. "Because…I'm saving it for later. For a party or a get-together or whatever reason kids my school need to get drunk." She said, turning only to retrieve the stuffed Batman from her bed. "All you need to know is who's have the party and where." With the pair of them looking at her so expectantly she let her hands slap to her sides. "I can't quit!"

"Tim goes to the same school, Del."

"Yes…but no one has the balls to tell me no. Me being there makes them look good even if they hate me. "

"No."

"You're my father, you don't count." She grumbled shaking Batman at him. "Face it, Dad. You guys need me."

_I wish we didn't. I wish I didn't have to risk so much on a single bet. Don't you know what you're worth to me? _"I want you seeing the cardiologist every two weeks until they can give us some definite answers." He could see her mouth falling open. "Fine, weekly it is then."

"Fine."

"And the training…"

"Which I need—"

"From now on, you train with me unless I state otherwise." No more training with Damian? Even Dick seemed to jolt at that.

"Boss—"

"Quiet." The man snapped, but he never so much as lifted his eyes from the sullen teenager across from him. "You're on light duty until further notice. I want you to recover. Is that clear?"

But to his chagrin, the girl merely picked up the bag and swung it over her shoulder before reaching for the door. Only then did the ridiculous thing peer at them from over her shoulder. "Yes, Sir. Now can we go?"

"She's your daughter." Bruce could only listen to the large charms on her boots clinking and clanking together as she all but blazed a trail for the lobby with that boy and the dog walking beside her.

"Yes she is. Stubborn as Hell too… just like her mother."

"Yeah…her mother. Sure, Bruce. Whatever you say."

* * *

"You're not going to stop are you?" Damian inquired, not taking his eyes off the masses in monkey suits as they drew closer and closer to the doors. He could feel his sister's sidelong glance, but she didn't slow down. Yes, _I heard every word. _

"No. I'll stop when I'm dead."

"Sounds like you could drop dead any minute." The boy said with a smirk.

"Then I guess I can't waste any more time. I have to see this through." _First Arkham. Then a train ride to Metropolis._

For a long moment the boy could only glance at her, unsure of whom this creature was beside him. Watching her produce her phone from her pocket he watched her make a quick text before letting the device slide back into the coat. Damian immediately reached for it, certain his sister would make a grab for it, but she did no such thing.

_Up for a field trip? Train ride. Metropolis. _

_When?_

_As soon as I get back from Arkham. _

_I'm in._

"You really think they'll follow her?" He asked, letting the phone slip right back into her pocket.

"I've got a feeling." She muttered. "I need you to keep an eye on the other girl. Something's telling me that they're not done."

"Arkham. I'm going with you." The boy said suddenly, cutting his hard green eyes at her. "I want to see this St. James for myself." He half expected her to object, but she simply rolled her shoulders.

"A little good cop-bad cop might be fun."

"It's only fun if I get to be the bad cop." He couldn't explain that smirk that rolled across her face as she hit the door, letting the press fly forward with their questions and cameras. Nothing was going to stop her now. Not clowns, bullets or blood soaked memories. Huh, there might be hope for her yet. If she didn't just up and die on him.

* * *

"Not even a full eighteen hours and you're up giving statements?" Jason could only lift his coffee cup to his lips, watching the girl come right out guns blazing. Well, so to speak. Even from here on the street he could see Bruce's still slack face. The old man wasn't sure what to do now that there was a fire under her ass. She could set Gotham ablaze with a fire like that. Oh, wouldn't that be interesting? But as he stood there across the street, watching the Waynes control the chaos around them, Jason became aware of someone standing next to him. _Bird. Just what the fuck is he doing here? _ But the man only shook his head making his blonde ponytail swing like a pendulum.

"That kid's got her guardian angel working overtime."

Watching the man continue down the street without another glance, Jason merely returned to his coffee cup. _You have no idea…_

* * *

**_A/N: _**Okay, so everything I wanted to cover here...didn't exactly get covered. Bruce and Del are definitely going to have one hell of an awkward conversation. I'm sure she'll thank Jason for that later. So, anyone curious to see what happens when Tim and Jason run into each other?


	26. Deep Trouble: Part 1

**AN:**Okay, so it ran long. the "showdown" isn't in this one folks but it's coming. (part 2. chopping in half again.) This chapter and the next will be setting up for some major events later and in the sequel. -Yes there's a sequel!- Jason had his moment so to speak, I guess Tim wanted his own. Well, sort of. :D

* * *

I don't know if it was my newly trimmed lungs making it so hard to breathe or if it was fear itself. I wanted to tell myself that I didn't have a choice, that I had to face the monster of my nightmares once again. But as the salted mist of the bay clung to my face all I could hear was Dad's voice in my head. _The right choices rarely feel like good ones._ No, this _was_ my choice. I had to know, I had to know if Sam was right, if that inkling that was all but creeping through my bones was true. What _had_ Nick St. James planned for me…if Dad never came?

"You think he's involved in the Nine Circles, don't you?"

At the sound of his voice cutting over the cries of gluttonous birds, I couldn't help but peel my eyes away from the white caps of the water to look at the boy beside me. "It's something Sam brought up." I said softly, listening to the horn of the ferry blare into the fog as it drifted closer and closer to Arkham Island's rocky shores. "When I found him and Sissy…" Even now I can still see the look of terror on that little girl's tear soaked face. It was enough to make my words thicken. "…he was taking her somewhere, Damian. I need to know where." I managed, letting the seagulls overtake our silence.

"I can see why they would risk taking Anabel." The boy said suddenly, drawing my gaze from the looming shadows just ahead. He was so still, so sure. Looking at him then it was hard to tell if he was really a ten year old kid or a mini adult trapped in a body that was way too small. "Blonde hair, blue eyes. Young—impressionable, easy to manipulate and therefore easy to control. A trainable commodity."

As his voice left him in soft curling wisps, I found myself gripping my coat closer to my suddenly chilled flesh. _He's right._ God, as much as it made my stomach churn, the kid was right. "It's disgusting." I growled trying to ignore how the shudder makes my flesh feel like it's raw from the inside out. But as I stole a glance at Arkham's looming shape, I could see Damian stealing a sidelong glance at me. "Don't you start too…" I said, forcing his green eyes to dart away as if he wasn't watching my palms press against my new sutures.

"Don't flatter yourself." He sneered, twisting about to lean his back against the paint chipped rails. I want to corner him, but I can feel my lungs aching, begging me not say much more. "It _is_ disgusting." He adds tilting his head up to the heavy gray clouds that hung over our heads. "And those who partake in it don't deserve the air they breathe." For all the venom spewing from his lips, I couldn't help but see the flicker of passion in him. Finally, there was something that bothered him! _You do have a scope of right and wrong, don't you? _Warped? Maybe. But it was there. "What I don't understand…" he started, letting his hooded head tilt toward me. "…is why bother with a college student? She's older, athletic, much harder to control than a child. And she was the only one who was branded that night."

Now it was my turn to lean on the rail. I couldn't even feel the flecks of paint under my scared palms. "What do we know about her?" I asked, forcing myself to breathe as the docks began to take shape before us. There was no going back now.

I couldn't tell if Damian was wrinkling his round nose at the musty odor of half rotten wood and fish or if he was just shooting me dirty looks. "Sasha Bowman, Twenty-three. She's attending Gotham University on a dance scholarship. No family to speak of, her parents died when she was seventeen and was a ward of the state until she was eighteen. She lives on campus. And she doesn't seem to have any associates outside of the dance troupe." At that the boy shrugged his shoulders. "Completely unremarkable."

_And lonely. _"No family? None what so ever?"

"Did I stutter? I said she has none. Don't tell me you're as dumb as Grayson."

"I think that's it. Who would look for her? Think about it, Damian, if Sissy didn't have her aunt, she'd be a ward of the state just like Sasha was. If she went missing…who would look for _her_?" They prey on those who slip through the cracks. It was enough to make me want to bend over the side and toss my cookies into the bay.

"I would." Feeling the ferry bump into the weather worn ports, I could only stare Damian and that hard scowl on his face as I braced myself for the reverberations of the impact. "I'd find them…and I'd crush them all." The words don't bother me even though I know they should. Maybe I agreed with him more than I cared to admit. "If you didn't have Father, who would've looked for _you_?" I could feel a multitude of names building up behind my lips. If the Devereux family knew I was missing they'd look for me wouldn't they? But even as I tried to bat away the creeping thoughts I only had one answer.

"I don't know."

* * *

I don't know what pulled me forward—what was leading me through the dank narrow halls of Arkham. I only obeyed, listening to the sound of the large silver charms on my boots clank together as if they were announcing my coming with every step I took into the madness. The bat and bird are always with me. And though I can't hear his steps over the calling of the inmates or the sound of my boots thudding along the metal catwalk, I know there's a bird beside me…a deadly little bird.

"A guard will be posted just outside, Miss Wayne." _And you're a bat._ Standing there waiting for that heavy bolted door before us to open, I could only feel that ache in my chest. Was it just my injuries? Or was it a fire? I couldn't tell anymore. I watched the guard's face grow slack in my silence as he slips from the door, revealing to me the monster inside. This moment-this moment had plagued my every thought for weeks now. I always assumed I'd hesitate when it arrived, but my legs only wrenched me forward, closer to the man who had altered my life forever.

"Hello, _Nick_." I manage, forcing the man to lift his gaze to me with that unblinking glass eye. Standing here at this table he seems so much smaller than the giant my memory had forged, and I know he's no small man. He's almost as tall as Dick and he's twice as thick. Even though I can see Damian pressing his shadow against the wall, I can't stop the shiver that rolls up my spine as the door slams shut behind us, swallowing the noise, say for the soft flick of well-worn playing cards.

"Damn, you sure know how to take a lick don't you?" He says, peering up at me with that shit-eating grin that's almost the same color of his dirty blonde hair. "I would've _loved _to see that." He adds, letting the blood red playing cards still on the table. Even in this grungy light I can still see every shadow crease of his face. It may be covered with stubble and new scars but he's still the same, the sharp angles of his high cheeks, the sloping crooked nose, and the gray blue eye. Okay, so maybe he wasn't _exactly_ how I remembered. His jaw looked weak now. His smile was gapped with the broken edges of teeth. I can't help but wonder if he really did have to suck food from a straw. The thought alone made me smile and he had no idea why. It pleased me, God that pleased me to no end.

"_Tch_. Looks like you can't see much of anything." Damian scoffed from behind me. I could only glance at the boy, watching him press the sole of his boot against the wall with the rest of his body.

"Who's the brat?" St. James hissed, kicking a metal chair toward me with his foot as he sank back in his own seat.

"None of your business." Kicking the same chair back under the table I watched as the man's fingers fished into the pocket of his shirt for a half crushed pack of cigarettes. _Don't let him know you're uncomfortable._ It took some work but I managed to sit on the corner of my half of the metal table.

"I could almost say I'm proud of you," Damian jested with a jut of his chin. "But you missed an eye. You should've taken them both." As I tucked my legs in front of me, I could see that single eye glaring at us.

"I should've. But then he wouldn't be able to see what I've brought." That got him to glance at me as he swiped a match across his sleeve. I let him watch my fingers as I reached into my jacket for the photos and scraps of paper I'd stuffed in the inside pocket.

"So, did you bring me pictures today?"

"Maybe." The second his chains scraped along the table, I yanked my hands back, aware that Damian had peeled himself from the wall. "Oh, no you don't. I have questions."

Smoke rings. God, I hate the smell of cigarettes. There's something about the stale burnt bitterness that rubs me wrong. But Nick only continued to inhale and blow out tendrils of smoke like a dragon. He's no dragon of course; the man was just a monster. A monster who plucked out his own glass eye and set it on the table—like that was going to unsettle me. "Are you toying with me, Little Girl?" I was too engrossed in the cavernous hole in his ugly mug to really hear the words.

"Are you a betting man, Nick?" That seemed to make the man smile some more. All I really wanted to do is bash his face into the table until he had nothing left in his mouth. But I stayed still, watching his thick fingers pick up the deck of cards before him.

"I am." He said, filling the room with the sound of cards bridging over each other. "How 'bout a wager? I win, I see a picture. You win, I answer a question." _Think like the enemy._

"Alright." I said evenly, slamming my hand on his before he could deal out the cards. It took everything I had not yank my hand away. I didn't want to touch the same hands that had killed my mother. "How stupid do you think I am? I'm not drawing from your deck. He deals."

The man simpered like a child who'd gotten caught red handed before slinging the cards across the table toward Damian. All I could focus on was breathing. I couldn't even zero in on the sound of shuffling cards. "You look a hell of a lot like your mother." Everything in my lungs came out in a _whoosh_. For a second I thought Damian had gone still, but the cards kept coming. _He's trying to get to you. He wants to shake you. Make you screw up. Don't fall for it. _I could only pick up my cards. A pair of aces, eight, six and two. At best I only had a pair. I could only look over my cards to see St. James lick his thin lips.

"Two." I murmur, letting the lower cards slip to the table. Damian's wasn't tense, but oh, I could feel the kid's eyes on me. Mom had taught me how to play and Alfred had sharpened my skills. I could only sigh as I set the new cards I was dealt in my hand as the man glanced at me over his cards.

"Moment of truth, Girly. What'cha got?"

I let my pair of aces flop down to the table with my new pair of eights, Nick smiled as his cards rested on the table. "Dead man's hand. Sorry, but it looks like your dead this time. Straight to the queen. Now, about that picture-"

"Hold it." Sliding my last eight over, I let him see my fifth and final card. A third eight. A full house. Of course it was mixed suits but it was enough to deflate his ego.

"Well that was a dirty trick. Didn't your daddy ever teach you to play nice?"

"Nope." With that I pulled the small scrap of paper I had hidden in my pocket. The second I let the folded thing hit the table, the man snapped it up, not seeming to mind his expression as he smirked at the sketch of the nine circles brand. At least I didn't have to ask him if it was familiar, he gave that away for free.

"If Batman hadn't shown up…what would you have done with me?" The sound of his chuckle was an eerie thing; I could feel it pulling the hair on the back of my neck to attention.

"And just how do you know about this?"

"I'm asking the questions. What were you planning to do with me? Killing kids really isn't your style. I guess their screams are a little too high pitched for you."

"They sound like pigs." He said with a sigh, letting the paper float back across the table. "But they fetch a fair price to the right people. You would have cost a pretty penny, maybe not as much as a blonde. But you were cute enough. It's the eyes. If I'd known that you're a Wayne—" The man stopped to slap his knee. "Oh, Honey, I could have made a killing." I could feel my nails digging into my palms as the room filled with his burst of laughter. "Oh, come on! That was funny."

"What kind of people?"

"Uh-uh. You want another question, you'll have to win another hand." I didn't. Watching that man grin as if he were about to claim a prize I could feel my stomach twist. It's alright. You planned ahead. Beside me Damian's impatience was building in the form of sighing breathes and sharp little glares. I could hear his fingers drumming against his thigh. If I didn't move this along the kid just might explode.

"Patience." I hissed, more for the boy's ears than St. James who was reaching out to me with his grubby paws. Letting my body sag into the chair I pulled a small photo free from the depths of my pocket. No sooner did the photo touch the metal surface of the table did the man snatch it up like a stray dog eager for scraps. Oh, but that winding smile slipped into a set of pursed lips.

"Well that was anti-climactic." He muttered, tilting his head as he analyzed the photo a moment more. "How'd you end up with something like this?" The second he flung it back at me, I couldn't help but glance down, feeling my breath hitch as I stared at that burned spot of flesh on that poor dead thing's body. _Jesus, that poor girl._

"We were the ones who found the body. She was buried under a snowbank." My teeth dug into my tongue as the words slipped out me. You'd think I was there just to chat.

"Defective merchandise" He mumbled, peeling the cancer stick from his lips to dump the ash on the table. "Or...they got what they wanted." As the smoke cleared I could see his thin lips twisting into a smile before he swept up the next set of cards. "Cat got your tongue?" He asked, shoving a pair of cards at Damian. "Or is the Princess of Gotham realizing she's no different than the little whores on the corner? That she could've been one of those little whores?"

With my cheek held captive in my cheek I discarded another pair of cards watching the cherry of his cigarette fade and glow with every drag. I heard Damian's boots scuff across the floor first. I don't know how my free hand was able to reach up and grab him around the arm in time. "Watch your tongue or lose it."

"Damian."

"We're wasting time!" He snapped, his voice covering over the sound of Nick's cards as he splayed them out on the table.

"Not quite." I said evenly, trumping his three of a kind with my straight. "What kind of people?" I asked again, watching the man smash the stub of his smoke.

"All kinds. Desperate couples. Pedophiles. Pimps and madams… take your pick. Nine Circles caters to any and all who can pay. A demand comes in and they feed it. Simple as that. They even kept me happy for a little while…and then instead of buying I ended up selling." The reflection of the girl in the metal table seemed paler than before. Oh, he liked that. "This is fun." He said slinging his cards across the table before leaning into his chair. I could only watch him as he pulled open that pack once more. "Oh? This offends you?" He asked pulling a fresh cigarette out.

"Everything about you offends me." I muttered, watching the shadows darken the creases of his face as I plucked up my cards. God they were looking grim.

"Now you're just turning into a bitch."

"I may be a bitch." The words were tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop them, even as my hands smacked into the table throwing my bad hand out for him to see I couldn't stop. "But you're still the spineless prick of a man who murdered my mother without cause."

With pain buzzing through my knuckles I could feel his laugh scraping up my spine as he set his cards down. My pair didn't stand a chance. "Trust me when I say…" He started, the links of his chains scraping against the table as he leaned forward, assaulting me with a whiff of that sour breath of his. "…It wasn't without cause. And if Bats hadn't shown up I would've made a hell of a lot more money. The job was just your mother. But when I saw you, I knew the folks at Nine Circles would want you. Hell, they even had someone paying in advance for you. Think about that, Princess." _In…advance? _

Tossing the picture at him, it took me a moment to swallow the bitterness that was creeping up my throat. But the second Nick turned that photo over, revealing my mother's lively face to the yellowed light, his gray colored eye seemed to grow darker. Suddenly, cupping the small photo in his palm he eased back in his chair, letting his cigarette settle in the ashtray. "She was one of the better ones. A spitfire." He said, letting a smile creep across his face as he lifted his gaze to me. "Never had one fight me quite like that before. Now _that _was some _real_ fun." Before my chair even hit the floor the man's fingers peeled the photo apart, scattering my mother's face along the floor with the ashes and grit of our shoes.

I couldn't even reach across the table fast enough. Damian beat me to him with a leap. St. James's tumbled to the floor in a clatter of metal. He could try to scramble to his feet all he wanted but the boy had him. "I told you to mind your tongue." He hissed, fisting his hands into the man's hair and in the collar of his jump suit before slamming his head into the edge of the table. Assaulted by the sudden rusted smell of blood I realized that the metal surface was red. I couldn't tell where the man's nose or mouth began. "Now you'll lose it."

Navigating around the blood spatter and the shards of teeth on the floor, I attempted to pull Damian away as he brought St. James' head up once more. "Enough. That's enough!" I snapped, forcing myself between the boy and the man who was now crumbled to the floor. "Oh? Did you think I was the bad cop in this scenario?" I crooned, lifting his head up by his hair. "Guess again."

"Miss Wayne?"

"A name. I want to know who conducts business for the Nine Circles." With the sound of the officer's boots tapping along the catwalk just outside I knew we didn't have much time. His echoing chuckle wasn't the response I was hoping for.

"Stupid Bitch. You don't have a clue….you don't know how far it goes. It's international."

"Gotham. Give me a name or I'll let him have at you again." I could see his eye trying to follow the boy as he squatted down to yank a leg out of the chair that St. James had spilled from. Twisting his head back toward me, I could feel his bloodied spit rolling down my cheek.

"The Collector."

"And where do I find him?"

"Figure it out yourself, you cunt." Pulling myself from my crouch, I couldn't help myself. His head somehow found its way to the table again. "You can't stop it. There's no way. Not even all of your daddy's money can help you. Gotham's just going to eat you alive."

"We'll see about that won't we?" I said, snatching his glass eye off the table. I could see him watching the thing as I let it fall to the floor. There was something about the glass eye cracking under my boot that made it all worthwhile. "Underestimating me never seems to work in your favor." I added, making sure to ground the glass into the rough concrete floor just as the door sprung open.

"What the-"

"His chair came apart and he hit his head on the table." I said evenly. "He'll need medical attention." I said slipping by the wide eyed officer as he bent down to pick up the chair leg. With Damian strolling at my side once more I worked my way back through the narrow walkways, listening to the bat and bird on my boot zippers clink together.

"I did you a favor." I almost wasn't sure what to make of Damian's sudden words. I could only watch him scan the corridors below us as we moved through the compound.

"How?"

"I knew the minute I started on him, you'd stop me from killing him." The boy said simply, locking his hands behind his back as if we were going on a stroll. But when his dark green eyes fell on me I could feel my steps staggering. "I wouldn't have stopped _you_. I did you a favor."

What do you say to that? I could only stare up at the pendulum lights above our heads as we passed through the small pools of soiled light. Strange I was here for answers and all I had were more questions—and a name.

"Oh look who it is!" I couldn't hear my steps anymore over the sound of leg irons dragging across the floor. _It's him._ Forcing myself to twist around I could see the group of heavy armored officers leading the clown to an open cell ahead of us. "Back for more fun are you?"

I couldn't get my tongue to work; I only pressed myself against the wall with our own little entourage as the clown was herded closer. "I know what it is you want." I don't even know where the words came from. But for all the chaos around us, I know that Joker herd them. I could only watch him pause and pull away from the prodding that tried to keep him moving. My legs were moving bringing me closer and closer. Stranger still I had the guards move out of my way with just wag of my scared fingers. Why didn't this dawn on me sooner? Its death he wanted. Batman was the only man who could see the genius behind his chaos. He was the only one who could keep up with the clown. If Joker could die at the hand of Batman it would be like his ultimate swansong. _Dad won't kill him. Dad won't ever kill him. And it's not that he doesn't want to. Life is his punishment. _

I should've been afraid but standing there in his towering shadow I felt nothing, even as the man lowered his head to my beckoning hand. As I cupped my hand around his ear I could feel the tension rising around me. "I'm going to see to it that you live for a very…very long time. You crashed the wrong party." With my whisper still rolling in his ears I stepped back, ignoring his calls as they echoed after me.

"What did you…"

"Only that I'd make certain he'd live for as long as possible."

"What?! That-"

"For some people life is torture."

* * *

_Someone even paid for you in advance. _Del wasn't sure if it was the soft rocking the train that was make her stomach turn or if it was nothing more than the memories of the wee hours. _Who?_ _Some desperate couple? A creepy ass pedophile?_ Someone paid for her in advance, but they never got their product. Realizing she wasn't reading anymore she simply hugged the soft leather journal to her chest. She couldn't hear his pencil scratching over his sketchpad anymore. Then again the bag she was leaning into was pressed into Tim's side.

"Not learning anything?"

At his words, the girl found herself lifting her mother's journal up. She'd put off reading it for so long. "Nothing about…venom one." She said gently letting her fingers flit through the soft ink filled pages. "She started writing this after she moved back to Gotham." It was strange reading about a chapter of her mother's life that the woman rarely spoke of. With a mother who was dying of cancer, it fell to her to find to search through Gotham for any sign of her brother and gypsy souled father. She found big brother Ben…but she also found Batman. "Venom one happened before she came here." Del said wrapping her arms around the book once more, not minding how it made her ache. She only turned her attention to the shadows that were flickering across the sun filled car. In the bright light of the window behind her, the girl made shapes with her fingers, long eared rabbits being a personal favorite.

"What are you? Five?" It was enough to get her to tilt her head up at him with a silly little grin on her face. But no sooner did her eyes return to the sun filled wall, did his shadow lean in and kiss the rabbit on its head. She thought her fingers might've gone numb with the feel of his lips on her skin. "All the money in the world and you amuse yourself with shadow puppets."

"I guess that means I'm normal person, doesn't it? I don't know what Gotham Noir would do with that."

"Princess of Gotham plays with shadow puppets. Oh, yeah, that'd sell like hot cakes I'm sure." With a smirk the girl reached up and gave him a shove back winning a wide smile in return. His smile was a rare thing. Sure she'd seen him smirk and give halfhearted twists of the lip. But to really see something break across his face and reach up into his eyes? There was something warm about that shy occurrence.

"I wish it had been you that I kissed." Had the words really come out her? Weren't they just a thought? But as his shadow came back to lean over her, Del could feel the butterflies scrambling around in her insides. She had. God why didn't her filter ever work?!

"I do too." He murmured, forcing her eyes to close when his sighing breath touched her cheek. "Lucky Bastard. You ever figure out—"

"Jason."

Even through her bag she could feel Timothy Drake going still. "How the hell do you confuse him for me?"

"Same mask. I even called him Tim and he never corrected me."

"You sure it was him?"

_I want to kiss you and I don't know why… _"Yeah, I'm sure."

"What an ass. Bruce would blow a blood vessel."

"Understatement." Del said with a sigh, stealing a chance to look up at the dark haired boy. The smile was gone.

"Why…"

"Why does Jason do anything? Jason just does what Jason wants." She mumbled, wincing as she attempted to shrug her shoulders. _Why indeed. I want to know why… _Feeling Tim's cool fingers on her face, the thought all but fizzled as his palm cupped her chin only to tilt her head as he leaned in, forcing her next inhale to be nothing but his warm breath.

"He may have kissed you first, but I put my lips to you the longest." He whispered, tickling her face with the soft air of his words. Surely her heart would come up in her throat now. She couldn't even hear the clack of the tracks over the hum in her ears.

"CPR doesn't count." The words all but fumbled out of her mouth as they dissolved into a breathy laughs, with her fingers inching their way up his face she could feel his chuckle bubbling out of him.

"I'll admit I'd prefer it if the person I'm kissing actually kisses me back."

"I'd kiss you back now." She whispered, thankful the car they'd chosen was filled with nothing more than sunlight and their own warm bodies. But no sooner had his head dipped in did the squeal of metal wheels on rails call out to them. He was close enough she could feel his lips pulling into a smile against her own.

"There's something wrong with our timing." He uttered, pulling away before the train car began to tug and shudder to a stop. Even with Delilah's teasing laughter, the spell had been broken with the sound of the garbled intercom as it poured into the train car. Reality was waiting just outside those automatic doors.

"Your trajectory is off by the way." Delilah managed as she worked herself up from the seat. She could see Tim's dark green eyes darting down to the sketch pad.

"Is not—oh wait…"

"Just what are you working on?" At that the boy just looked at her and smirked before he peeled himself up.

"You'll see." He jested, shoving the plans right back into his messenger bag before she could pry any further. "Daily Planet, right?"

"Yup."

"Think Bruce knows where we are by now?"

"Probably."

"Trouble?"

"Definitely. So we better hurry."

* * *

The pit was busy, bustling with journalists, crazy ringtones and the clack of keyboards. No sooner had she opened the door, she could've appreciated the spell of coffee and day old doughnuts. "I'm sorry, you'll just have to cut it down, unless you want to make a jump to page six."

"Aw, Perry, come on! This deserves the full front page!"

"Lois…"

But as Delilah drifted closer with Tim in her wake, the woman's lips curled into a smile, watching the girl as she pressed a finger to her lips behind Perry White's back. Lois sighed, folding her arms over her round belly. "You know what? Never mind."

The tips of Perry's ears started to turn red. "Never mind? What the hell do you mean never mind? After all the crap you gave me? Oh! Where the hell is Clark! I can't put up with your shenanigans today."

"Shove it all on page six."

"You're kidding me."

"Nope. Our front page story just walked in."

"Behind me right?"

"Breathe, Mr. White." Delilah said over the man's shoulder, making him whirl around on his heel.

"Jesus Christ, it's Delilah Wayne." The man sputtered, stepping back so he could sling an arm around the girl. "How the hell are you—when did you—you were shot!"

"I nearly drowned too." She offered shrugging with her arms out as the newsroom lolled at her words. "I bounce back fast."

"Or you fake it." Lois murmured, trying to wedge herself out of her chair.

"Like a boss. Don't even get up. " The teen chided, stealing the empty chair from Clark's desk. "Shouldn't you be on maternity leave or something?"

"Not you too! You should be in a hospital bed or… something."

"Yeah…that wasn't gonna happen."

"So are you going to give me—I mean us the first exclusive interview?" Lois asked as the girl sank carefully into the chair.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a trade." The woman's dark blue eyes widened with interest. But before the girl could elaborate she only frown as her phone began to shake violently from the inner sanctum of her pocket.

"That's your father. He wants to know where you are." Clark. Lifting her eyes from the small LCD screen she could see Clark slipping from around the cubicle, sliding his thick framed glasses back in place. "He called me not even a minute ago asking if I've seen you today."

"Oh…fun." Del muttered, grimacing as she swiped the screen. "Yes, Dad?"

"_WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!?"_

Pulling the phone from her ear, she was sure that everyone on staff could hear his words booming from the phone. You already know. But the words didn't dare cross her lips. "Daily Planet. Call you back in five. Swear." She hurriedly hung up, knowing full well she cut him off mid-sentence. The second he tried to call her back, she turned the phone down completely and let it slide right back into her pocket before lifting a bright face for the Kents.

"So how much trouble are we going to be in again?" Tim asked as he leaned over the top of her chair.

"I'll be grounded until I'm thirty." Del muttered before glancing up at Perry. "Could you possibly grab me a print out of the numbers? He might make it twenty-five years instead if I do something I'm supposed to." The man simpered and shook his head.

"Alright, Sweetheart, alright." With that he left the kids with the Kents. "Get back to work, show's over!"

"Sorry, Tim."

But the boy shrugged. "What's the worst that could happen? Military school? Please. Been there done that." Delilah could see Lois watching them a bit too carefully.

"If this kid ends up anything like them…we're in trouble." But no sooner had the words come from her, did Lois flop back in her chair. "So what did you have in mind? I think you're down to four minutes and twenty seconds." The woman said, watching Delilah as she automatically went sifting through her bag.

"I'll trade you an interview if you guys can swap some information and maybe an itty bitty favor."

"She said itty bitty, I'm scared now."

"Have either of you seen this in Metropolis?" The girl asked, handing them a fresh sketch of the nine circles brand. "We stumbled on a little girl's body that had this. I…"

"I haven't seen it personally, but I've heard about something like this." Lois said carefully, laying her free hand across her belly as if she were protecting it from unseen harm. "I have a few connections in the PD…and he—"

"We'll do some digging in this area and let you know what we find." Clark put in. "What's the favor?"

"A little girl—a friend of mine. When she was abducted, they started to brand her with that. GCPD says it something they've seen in the Nine Circles trafficking ring. She and her aunt just moved here to get away from it, and I…I think it's here too. I was just wanted to see if you could keep an eye on her."

"Got an address?" _'Atta boy, Boy Scout. _

"A bat asking for help? Did Hell freeze over?" Lois whispered, forcing the teen to crack a sliver of smile.

"Dad and I aren't completely alike." Delilah murmured, as she stole a pen off of Lois' desk to scribble down the new address. "Just tell her you know who sent ya."

"Oh, so she knows…"

"She knows enough." Del said gently, pressing her hand on her chest. She wasn't completely sure what connections the child had made beyond Damian and herself.

"Sure, I'll keep an eye on her for you."

"Thank you."

"You've got about ninety seconds."

"How is the old man?"

"Driving us crazy until his skull heals. I think he's driving himself crazy. He's never fun when he has this much down time." Now Clark smirked, giving the girl a steady arm as she worked herself out of the chair.

"You shouldn't be up and moving around either." He commented watching her swipe up her bag from Tim's hand. But he just shook his head as the girl straightened herself out as if the pain wasn't bothering her.

"Fake it like a boss." Lois crooned, summoning a laugh out of the girl despite how much it pained her to breathe.

"You need to go on maternity leave or you're going to end up having that baby right here in the newsroom. You'll have to go through Dad to set up the interview…he'll agree to it as long as it's you. May have to skype or something."

"See? I told you."

"Oh, be quiet, Smallville."

* * *

Del could only smirk to herself as she worked her way to Perry's office. But the second she heard Clark call Tim back, she felt her lips fall. She couldn't be bothered with it, time was almost up. Picking up the phone, she bit back the dread, feeling her lungs fill to capacity. It didn't even have time to ring.

_"I want you back here now! I'll send the jet."_

"Don't. That's a huge waste of money." Del groaned.

_"What the hell are you doing?!"_

Del could only smile at Perry as he slid her paperwork.

"I'm gathering some papers from Perry. Said hello to the Kents and gave them first dibs on my first interview."

_"It's for Anabel, isn't it?"_ Of course he'd know what she was up to.

"Yes. I-" _Do I tell him? Yes. Don't be stupid. Brazen good, stupid bad. _"I got some information from St. James this morning." She said slowly. Not sure what to make of the silence on the other end of the phone. "I-I don't know if I can even wrap my head around it."

_"**You** went to Arkham?" He sounded so calm, so rational. Now she was afraid._

"Yes, Sir."

_"Get your ass-"_

"Gotta go, Dad. I'll be home ASAP. Promise."

"Dead girl walking?"

With shaking hands, Del squeezed the power button on her phone until the device went completely black. "You could say that." She uttered, shuffling the new paperwork into her bag under Perry White's careful gaze. "Thank you, Perry."

But the man said nothing as he slipped the sketch from her fisted fingers. "Where did you…"

"You know it?"

Perry wiped his mouth with his hand. "I uh..." The man quickly turned around and opened his office door wide. "Why don't you come in a second." Unsure of what to make of the man's sudden weariness, Del slid into his cramped office, not minding the smell of cold coffee and warm ink. Newspapers were absolutely everywhere.

Raking a hand through his grayed temples, Perry hastily removed a stack of yellowed papers from one of the chairs by his desk. "Please sit." He murmured, lifting his head as Tim's shadow darkned the doorway, but the boy simply closed the door behind him as the man worked his way around his desk.

"One of my first stories was about an unsolved murder." He said quickly as he all but flopped into his chair. "Young college student." He said, pausing to take a gulp of his coffee, by the creases in his face Del was sure it was cold. "She had that on her arm. That was almost twenty years ago." He added as he leaned in on his desk. "How did you-"

"The body that we stumbled on...she had it." Delilah said slowly, watching something wet shimmer in the man's dark eyes. "Perry?"

"I chased those bastards for years." He said suddenly. "I had a little sister." Had. The single word made Del's stomach jolt. "They took her right out of her bed. Left their little brand behind, but there wasn't a single print."

"Were you-Perry, I'm sorry I don't know how to ask but, were you two on your own?"

The creases in the man's face went slack as his head lolled against the back of his highback chair. "How'd you…"

"I almost became one of them." The words didn't even feel real. "I have to make it stop. I-" The squeak of his chair covered her words.

Perry wasn't the touchy sort of guy, so when the man reached across his desk and took up her thin fingers into his paw like hands, Del didn't know what to think. "I'd tell you not to dig. _Me_. A journalist to my core. But it wouldn't stop you would it?"

"No."

Mr. White crumbled down to his elbows, hanging his head with a sigh. "Alright." With that the man straighten himself up and turned to the wall of filing cabinets. "I take it this is what you wanted to talk to the Kents about?" He asked, not even looking up as his thick fingers flicked through the folders.

"A little. Clark said he'd dig around here for me."

Perry only nodded his slowly graying head as he yanking a bulging folder from the drawer. "This is everything I had on it. Dated, and I don't know if-"

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. These aren't good people, Delilah." But as the man glanced at the girl sitting there across from his desk, he knew she'd seen that first hand. "Just…"

"Be careful?"

"Yeah. Does your father know what you're up to?" He asked as the color started to slip from his cheeks. The thought of the Gotham heiress poking around in the seedy underworld wasn't that appealing. (Especially when the girl's father owned the paper. )

"We'll talk about it." She said simply, trying to offer the man a weak smirk.

"Well that doesn't make me feel any better." He said watching the girl's face pinch as she worked herself up from the worn chair. "Go home would you?" He said, as the boy behind her wrenched the door open. "Oh, and Del…" The girl paused, watching him scramble to jot down something on a bright blue sticky note. "If you get a wild hair this is the man you need to talk to. Just tell him I gave you the number. You know you can call me if you need to."

"John Turpin."

"He's a good cop, a little full of himself, but he's an old bugger like me. Now go home before your father calls the national guard to retrieve you."

"I'm going, I'm going."

"Hey kid. Sorry I didn't catch your name."

Feeling Tim pause behind her Del couldn't help but stop to roll her eyes.

"Keep her out of trouble would ya, Tim?"

"Out of trouble? All she does is get me in trouble right along with her!"

"Shut if, Timothy. You like it."

"You got me there."

* * *

_How far does the rabbit hole go? Mom. Venom. St. James. Mr. Collins. Nine Circles. _

"You're awfully quiet." The sound of Tim's voice brought her back to the street, back to the feel of the winter sun warming her back as they weaved through the traffic on the sidewalk, dodging the looming shadows of the art deco buildings.

"I just…I can't make the connections." Del murmured, titling her head up to stare at the glittering mounds of glass. _So many rounded edges. It'd be hard to anchor a line or use a grappling gun around here. Street lamps galore—it'd be too bright. No wonder Dad hates it here. He does his best work in the dark…_

"You wanted to ask him about your mother, didn't you? St. James I mean." How did he always manage to do that? How did he always know where her mind was lingering?

"I had a choice. Either I ask about my mother and fill my own personal needs. Or I ask about Nine Circles and find a way to stop it." She said firmly, letting her gaze fall back to the boy. "It's all connected and I don't…I just can't see it yet. The rabbit hole just keeps going. I don't know if I'll ever find the end."

Timothy Drake simply paused there on the street, forcing her own moving feet to stagger to a stop as he held out his hand to her. "It doesn't matter how deep it gets. You won't be going through it alone. I won't let you."

His hand felt so sure around hers. These hands had bruised her chest in a rush to save her life. These hands were caucused and hard like her own and somehow her hand was swallowed in its grip. Without a word she let him lead her through the streets as if he'd always known them. As if they were as familiar to him as the streets of Gotham.

"Has Damian found anything on the Collector?" Damian. She half expected him to tell her to do her own damn work and yet he seemed just as perplexed by the puzzle that was unfolding before them.

"Nothing so far. But I-" The feel of someone's arm snaking around her neck stole the words right off her tongue. Without even hesitating, Del broke away from Tim's hand, locked the offending arm in place, stepped back and heaved the crushing weight over her shoulder the best that she could until a man's body hit the pavement before her.

"Mr. Devereux are you all right?!"

The air felt as though it was scrapping its way down her throat. Even as pressed her hands into her chest, forcing the tears of reaction to sting her eyes, she could barely recognize the toppled suit before her.

"Yeah…yeah. I'm fine. Damn, Little Bit." _That voice. I know…_

"Un-uncle Beau?" The words came out in choking gasps that vaguely tasted like blood. Before she could even string her thoughts together she could feel Tim's hand on her elbow.

"Deep breath. You over did it a little."

"_Tim?_ What the hell are you doing _here_?" _I know that voice too. _And by the creases in his face, so did Tim. "You better start telling me what the hell you're doing hundreds of miles away from home." But he didn't even glance in Jack Drake's direction, his dark green eyes stayed on her as if her gasping breathes were too loud for him to hear anything else.

Half aware that Beau Devereux was peeling his scraped body off the pavement Del let her fingers fumble to her pockets, feeling the panic rise when her seeking fingers couldn't find the inhaler. _It's okay. You'll breathe soon. It's okay. _Finally finding the little object the girl could've closed her eyes, but no sooner had she pulled her shaking hands free did the inhaler slip from her fingers. It never hit the pavement.

"It's cool, I've got'cha." Why did his soft whisper feel so nice on her cheek? With his hands keeping hers still she finally managed to bring the thing to her mouth. "Did you forget you're not wearing the bat-suit? He murmured to her pulling the smallest of smiles from the corner of her mouth as the inhaler went to work. The second she lowered her trembling hands he let her go.

"Jesus…Uncle Beau." She managed, stealing a moment to force the air into her lungs. "I'm sorry…"

But the skin around the man's hazel eyes only crinkled as he wiped the scrape on his cheek with the sleeve of his suit. "You all right? What the hell are you doing out of bed?" He cried, squashing the girl in the grip of his arms. "You sure pack a wallop, you know that?"

"Uncle?" At the sound of Jack Drake's inquiring, Beau Devereux let the girl go.

"Oh, where the hell are my manners? Jack, this is my great-niece, Delilah. Little Bit this is—"

"Hello again…Mr. Drake." Delilah uttered sheepishly, watching her uncle's eyes grow larger.

"Oh, you've met?"

"Yeah, that thing with her is my son, Timothy—who isn't in Gotham like he should be." Jack said, watching how the boy just crossed his lanky arms over his chest.

"What are you doing here?" Del said with a swallow. At least her voice was coming back bit by bit.

"Business. What are _you_ doing here? Does your father know where you are?"

"Yes. No. Sort of."

"Sort of?" Jack's brow shot up. "Uh, uh. We'll remedy that right now."

"Dad."

"Quiet, You." Jack snapped as he fished his phone from his pocket. For a moment Del found her eyes glued to Jack Drake's phone, feeling the dread begin to prickle at her skin when she heard her father's voice answer over the hum of the city.

"_I'm really stretched for time, Jack." _

"You're not missing a teenager are you?"

A pause. _"As a matter of fact I am." _

"Well I spotted her and that boy of mine just as I was stepping out from lunch. Consider her found."

"_If I prepared a jet for your flight home, would you mind keeping tabs on her until I can come collect her myself? I'm out of range at the moment, and there's quite a bit she and I will need to discuss."_

Jack tilted his head toward the girl. "Oh, she can hear you, Bruce. But sure."

"_Good. I'll make the arrangements for you." _

Had it not been for her uncle's hands cupping her cheeks, the girl was sure she could've slid to the ground. "You, Darling, are in deep trouble now." He told her, letting a bright smile dawn across his face. _No wonder you were Mama's favorite. _"Ah. I have something for you." He said suddenly, dragging her attention away from Jack's low muttering and the sound of Tim's shoe's scuffing on the sidewalk. "I meant to give it to you when we stopped by the hospital this morning, but you already escaped." He said lifting the flap of his soft leather messenger bag.

"We?"

"Gigi went straight there." He said slowly. "Sat there with your father in the waiting room until he finally told her to take her old ass home."

"Gigi?"

"Yep. There's only one Dragon Lady." He said, lifting a disc free. "I don't know how much of this you'll remember…" He said gently, cupping her cold hands around the flat thing. "But I thought you'd like it." With a pat on her hand he twisted his way back toward Jack Drake. "I leave you with you with the warden." He said lightly as the men traded a nod. "Jack, I'll contact you the moment I get any word."

Watching the men shake hands, Del could feel her cheek becoming trapped in her jaws. Just what did Jack Drake and Beau Devereux have to discuss? Somehow that didn't settle well.

"Well, kids, it looks like you're stuck with me." Jack stated, settling himself between the two as if he were separating them on purpose. "Isn't this gonna be fun?"

* * *

**AN:** I swear Jason and Tim are both in the next chapter, the set up was taking longer than I thought.


	27. Deep Trouble: Part 2

"You think he'll be alright?" Her voice always had a way of dragging my thoughts back. Back to this tiny apartment I called home. Back to the open window and the smell of rain and wet concrete, back to the boxy kitchen…and back to _her_. She always seemed to know where my thoughts went—okay, that or I was looking toward the front door more than I thought.

From the moment I saw that man leaning against our door, I knew something was wrong. I could just see it in the way he stared at my dad with his narrowed eyes "You kids go inside, dry off. I'll be in a minute." I didn't want to leave him there and despite how my shadow seemed to linger, I managed to reach behind me and find the slender bones of Del's wrist. With the echo of thunder chasing after us I pulled the soggy thing behind me through the door before I stared through the peephole watching my father's shadow grow smaller and smaller as he drifted down the hall with the stranger. _This isn't good. What did you do, Dad? _

Standing there in the kitchen with my damp cuffed jeans I realized the girl beside me was had gone still in my silence. "I think so…" I said slowly, turning my attention back to the frying pan. Del's fingers stopped kneading the small ball of dough under her hand.

"If he's not back in five, we'll check it out ourselves." Her words were so resolute that it somehow made a breath slither from my lungs. She looked like a wraith standing there in my t-shirt with the damp ends of her jeans rolled up over her bare feet. Somewhere between Metropolis and Gotham, the veil of her medication had started to wear thin and yet somehow she was managing to fight it. I don't know if she was stronger than we thought or just stubborn as hell.

"What?"

_You're staring, Idiot. _"You just surprise me is all." She always surprised me. "I mean…you're standing here rolling a ball of pasta dough in jeans and t-shirt."

Her nose scrunched. "That's a nice way of saying I look like hell."

"That's not-"

"I know, I know. It's _normal_." She added, letting a smile grace her pale face before she stared down at the dough that she was thinning out into a giant sheet. "I had a normal life first." For a moment I thought the sound of the rain would swallow her soft words. "I can't remember much of it but…"

"It left its mark." Watching her flex her scarred fingers I suddenly wished I could take the words back, but she just nodded and continued to loosely roll the dough.

"Hey, don't let that bacon burn."

"Excuse me? Look here, Woman, I may not be able to cook very many things, but I'm a master at bacon. You just finish doing what you're doing." No sooner had the words rolled off my tongue did I get a face full of flour. By the time I shoved the pan to a cold burner and grabbed a fist full of flour, she was already jumping back not that she had very far to go, our kitchen is about the size of shoe box.

"Shit." With such a dirty word spilling out of that pert little mouth, I knew I had her cornered. That didn't stop her from swiping her dusty hands down my navy colored shirt, or me from making sure her cheeks were flour caked and cupped in my hands. _I like this. _I can't tell you what it is that I liked…it wasn't just one thing. I liked the way her laugh felt when it burst from her in little bubbles, it almost felt like a flutter with her body pressed into mine.

I realized then, with her thin fingers curling around my wrists and the sound of her laughter rivaling the patter of the rain, that she wasn't just stubborn or strong—she was a bit of both. She was stubborn as fuck, strong as hell and yet in my hands she felt so fragile. It was maddening.

"Game over." I murmured, feeling my own mouth catch her infectious smile. _I don't know what I'm doing. _And for that split second, I didn't give a fuck, her fingers were sliding, curling into the shoulders of my shirt, I could feel her nails biting into my skin and somehow I didn't mind it—hell I liked that too.

"Says who?" The touch of her breath on my cheek made my spine shiver and yet all I could manage to do was press my forehead to hers, watching her eyes turn that glossy shade of blue that she wore when she was nervous and suddenly unsure. _Kiss her, kiss her now. _"By the way, you're not off the hook." She added, pulling away just enough that I could see her face in its entirety.

"Oh?"

"You still owe me a dance, Timothy Drake." I may have seen the flicker of lightning casting across her dark blue eyes, I may have been counting in my head waiting for boom, but when the clap of thunder rolled over the city, I realized the girl who was pressed into my chest-wasn't. Her hard head hit mine as a jerk rolled through her body, forcing a laugh to spill out of my mouth the second a squeak of surprise burst from her.

"Are you kidding me?!" I cried peeling away from her so I could rub the offended spot. Del let her head fall into her empty hands, squashing her manic giggles into her palms.

"No. Shit. Are-are you okay?"

"I'll live. Spiders…and thunder?"

"It just caught me off guard!"

"Uh-huh."

"It did! I swear!"

God, I just wanted to march across that space between us and catch her by the mouth. I wanted to know what those little bubbles of laughter would feel like on my lips. But of course the thought disappeared the second I heard that front door open. I should've kissed her when I had the chance.

"What the hell happened in here?" With a glance at the man in the soggy suit, I could feel my lungs squeezing out any sighs I had left. He was safe. I wanted to ask him about the man who was waiting for him and somehow something completely different slid off my tongue.

"Del happened."

"What?! Nuh-uh."

"You started it."

"Only because you ran your mouth!"

"And you don't?"

"I'm a girl. It's what I do."

"Oh, so it's a part of your charm?" The second she all but snorted, I forgot that I was pulling the bacon from the pan. I could only hang on the edge of the counter and cough up my flour dusted laughter while the girl started to turn pink. "Like that?"

"God help me, I might kill him." Del muttered, letting her pale blue eyes fall anywhere but on me as she scanned the small kitchen. "I need a knife."

"No way! One of us will end up bleeding for sure!"

"Second drawer in the column." I could only imagine what my father was thinking as he spoke up. I only turned and pointed the spatula at him.

"Whose side are you on?!" But the second his dark eyes landed on me I could see his bony finger pointing at my shirt. Del's finger marks were still etched in white across my chest. _Awe shit._ I only shrugged, watching the corners of his mouth upturn before he eased himself into one of the squeaky dining chairs at the table.

"Hers. Face it, Boy. She's cuter than you are."

Del stopped cutting the dough into strips long enough to spit her tongue out at me. "I win." She teased, craning her neck to see if the water on the stove was boiling. That's when I saw the red mark bleeding through the side of her shirt.

"Del?" Despite the stinging mist of hot water spraying on my arm as she scrapped the pasta into the water I managed to reach out to her side, feeling the muscle quiver under the pads of my fingers.

"Shit."

With her eyes meeting mine I could hear Dad's chair scraping across the floor as he worked himself up. "Show her were the first aid kit is. Hopefully it's nothing major." He said hobbling into the small open kitchen on his cane. "Don't worry. I know how to cook pasta." He added, working a bit of a smirk from Del's pale lips.

* * *

"I haven't seen that in a while."

"Seen what?" I murmured as Dad bellied up to the stove, though for some reason the action doesn't seem to fit him. There was a time in his life when he paid people to cook and clean for him. There was a time when this entire apartment would've suited as a bedroom. That grand life seemed so far away now. That's just how quick things change.

"That." He said, poking me in the dimple with his index finger.

"Ah, c'mon Dad. Knock it off."

"I'm serious. I haven't seen you smile like that in a long time." He said, pursing his thin lips as he popped a noodle in his mouth. "She's good for you." He said quietly, letting his words be overtaken by the sound of the water splashing into the sink. "A bit of a trouble maker." He added simpering at me when I leaned back to make sure the bathroom door was still closed. "But that'll change in time—maybe."

I turned my attention back to what I was doing, listening to the clink of plates and cups as Dad and I fell into a working rhythm. Why was the silence bearable? Was it because we were talking about her? "I don't want anything about her to change." I mumbled trying not to think about how mortified I was by my mouth's candidness. I couldn't hear Dad moving about the kitchen anymore so I kept my eyes on the grater in front of me trying not to shrug off his arm when it suddenly slung across my shoulder. "I like her the way she is."

"Trouble and all, huh? We all change over time. That's what the world does to us, Tim. And the funny thing is, you won't even know it happened until it's too late." He said slapping me on the shoulder. "Does she know how you feel yet?"

"Kinda. Maybe? I don't know. I don't even know how _I_ feel—I just know that I like whatever this is."

"Tim, Tim, Tim. " Dad muttered, shaking his head as he set the plates on the table. "Alright, let me ask you this, if it were to stop tomorrow, would it hurt?" I wanted to say no. If Del were to step out of my life tomorrow, it wouldn't mean anything. But that small voice in my head just continued to nag. _That's not true._ When I failed to banish the silence, Dad's lips twisted into that small rueful smile. "Maybe you need to be more honest with yourself. It's obvious you feel _something_ for her." The words were almost gentle. "I saw that for myself today." He said stopping any argument I had. "I know you, Boy. I know you don't fight that hard to protect something if your heart isn't in it." _My heart?_ "Don't ever let that change."

* * *

_So many scars…and it's only just begun._ I wanted to shrug back into that shirt that smelled of Tim. I wanted to hide these jagged lines, but the girl in the mirror made no reach for the oversized t-shirt. Instead her cheeks filled with air as I readied myself for the bite of the needle. I'd have to ask Alfred to redo this, there's no two ways about it, and if Dad knew… _gah_.

The pale porcelain sink is pink by the time I'm done, and while my hands are shaking and itching to grab up the shirt, I force myself to finish scrubbing my hands and face letting the remnants of flour swirl down the sink with the bloody water. Only then can I slink into that still warm comfort of a t-shirt, letting my scars…my secrets… slip back into hiding. I don't know what it is about the hearty laughter I hear echoing from beyond the door, but it forces the thin thing in the mirror to smile and hug her arms around herself. _You've survived so far, deep breath. _It hitches, aches and burns like a fire inside my chest and somehow the air manages to slide out without letting my gasping cries free at the same time. Only when the tacky edges of my lashes feel somewhat dry do I turn for the door.

"You all right?"

"Yep, just needed to change a bandage. I'm good." I manage feeling my lips pop into that forced smile. But even as Mr. Drake beams at me and pulls a chair free from the table, its plain…Tim's not buying. It's not like the guy could hear a girl's swallowed cries or if he could tell her black lashes were damp, right?

"Have a seat, Miss Delilah."

"Del, please, Mr. Drake."

"Jack will do." Tim's father uttered, raising his thick brown eyebrows at me. "Tim, put this gear away, would ya?" He grumbled gesturing to the harnesses that were strung out by the table. I could see Tim's thin shoulders sliding in a shrug before he made quick work of scooping them off the floor.

"Rock climbing, right?" It was enough to make him pause before pulling himself upright. "Like the photo in your room?" I asked, thinking of that smiling faced kid who was hanging off the face of a cliff with a much younger version of the man at the table. Tim's only response was to smirk at me before heading for the closet by the foyer.

"Those were the days. He still does it though, maybe not as much as he used to with lacrosse practice." _Lacrosse? Tim's not on the lacrosse team… _I knew better than to correct the man.

"I went rappelling once…"

"Rappelling out your bedroom window after watching a YouTube tutorial doesn't count!" Tim yelled out.

"Sure it does! And what about the pole challenge?"

By the time Tim wandered back to the table he was rolling his big green eyes. "For you…that was free climbing." I could see Jack's hand pausing on his glass. "Her harness came off halfway up. She made it to the top without it." Tim explained as his father's dark eyes went wide.

"Someone's a wild card then, isn't she? You should show her how to climb." He said at last, smirking into his water glass. "Safely, I might add."

This…God damn, this was so easy, whatever this was that made me laugh in spite of the pain that crept through my body. If only Tim could just see what I saw sitting at their table. If he could just see how easily that smile spread across his face forcing those dimples to dot the corners of his cheeks. Didn't he know where those dimples came from? Jack Drake all but mirrored them after all.

They made it easy to banter, easy to grin until my mouth ached. There were a couple times I was certain I'd choke there at the table with a fresh coat of tears brimming along my lashes. Even when the gray light dwindled into darkness and the plates and emptied, I realized even in the stark flashes of lightning I could still see that smug satisfaction on Tim's face. When was the last time he'd been able to talk with Jack like this?

"Let's see what's on the tube, shall we?" Tim barely glanced at the small screen sitting on the kitchen counter before he peeled his lanky body from his chair and immediately began stacking the plates on the table. I just made it to my feet when his hands clamped mine down on the empty china.

"I've got it. Sit down."

"Are you trying to boss me around again?"

"_Police are telling the citizens of Gotham that if they have an alternate route around Sprang Bridge, they need to use it. Our crews are trying to get as close as they can to the accident. It's been confirmed that a city bus with passengers is indeed teetering on the bridge. First responders are trying to approach the situation as quickly and as safely as they can." _

"Jesus, what a mess."

The muscles in my neck are trembling, aching to let my head twist toward my bag and yet, the bite of Tim's fingers forces my gaze to stay on him. _Wait. Be Patient._ I know what he's saying even if his lips never move. With my hands trapped under his calloused finger tips, I find myself stuck at the table more than aware that our pause is lingering on just a second too long. Only when I force a sigh of defeat from my lips does the boy yank the plates out from under my hands. Feeling the heavy weight of Jack Drake's curious gaze, I find myself making a face a Tim's back for show as I snatched up the empty cups. "You're such a butthead." I groaned, listening to Jack's half sputtering chuckle melt together with the sound of a ringing cellphone.

"Dana, there you are! No, no, I'm sure the traffic is hell." Even as I reach the sink, I can see Tim's back going rigid. Just like me he's waiting…waiting for the opportunity. Feeling his fingers taking the glasses from my hands I can't help but tilt back to peer through the darkness of the open window. I can see the glimmer of towers and apartment windows…but no bat-signal. _It doesn't matter. They need help._

"One second, I can't really hear you." I know better than to watch the man leave the room, instead I listen for that dragging shuffle and the sound of a door closing behind him. With my fingers curling in the back of Tim's shirt I yanked him toward the foyer.

"We're going. _Now_."

"Are you sure you can-"

_No._ But something else falls from my mouth. "Are you coming with me or not?"

"Who's the bossy one again?" I should've been thinking about so many other things, the weather, the weight of my suit on my chest or the lack of equipment—anything. The only thing I could think about just how pissed off my father was going to be. He didn't kill, but there was a first time for everything. _Dad's gonna kill me. Dad's so gonna kill me..._

* * *

With his chest pressed on the concrete, all he could smell was a wet city. Wet concrete. Wet ash. Wet rusted metal. It didn't matter what Mother Nature poured on Gotham, this city would never be clean. It'd only manage to shove the rubble into the creases of the sidewalks and wash the blood down the drain. Watching the rivulets race down the scope of his gun, Jason forced himself to inhale. Why did people enjoy the smell of rain? Fuck, if it smelled like anything, it smelled like a wet damn dog. Why was that enjoyable? A part of him wanted to lift his head and curse the billowing black clouds above his head, but movement made his focus return back to the scope.

"Aw, hell no." He hissed, not minding the taste of rain water on his lips as he watched the slender black figure slip through the window of the Drake's apartment. "You little idiot." Why wasn't she handcuffed to her bed or something?! "And you're letting her…" He grumbled, forcing his itching finger from the well of the trigger as Dick's little groupie joined her on the lip of the building. "Wouldn't fucking happen if it were me." He muttered, digging his elbow into the small puddle that was building before him to stabilize the rifle. He didn't let his eye sit on the so called 'Red Robin' instead he watched the baby bat lift her long eared head up to the sky as if she were cursing the clouds before making the short leap to the next building. "Still got a bit of spark left, don't you?" He said aloud watching the figure pause to clutch her chest. "…and it's about out." Watching her slap the boy's gloved hand off her shoulder he could have laughed, but settled for a sneer. "She's too stubborn for you." Watching the girl send out her line and yank her weight off the roof, Jason rolled to his side and began working himself up. "Let me show you what a Robin's supposed to do."

* * *

He had a half a mind to ship that girl off to Sweden—and yet the other half of his brain was trying to talk him out of it. Where else in this world was she truly safe other than in the darkness of his shadow?_ She's not Dick. She's not Jason. She's not Damian. She's not you. _ Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe by the grace of whatever was still good in this world she could crawl out from that shadow of his. But as the Drake's apartment door opened, revealing Jack Drake's ashen face Bruce Wayne could only try to lump of dread down his dry throat. "Flew the coop didn't she?"

The door swung open wider. "It's that boy of mine, I guarantee it." Jack grumbled, squashing his phone between his ear and his bony shoulder, as the sound of Tim's voice mail leaked out into the air. "If you don't get your ass home in the next five minutes—"

"_Mailbox is currently full."_

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." Bruce said evenly as he stepped into the center of the open apartment, aware of that familiar tone that was humming out of the small TV in the Drake's kitchen. He'd know Gordon's voice anywhere.

"_This city needs to learn to pick and choose their battles. If Batgirl and Robin can help our crews, then I say let them. You can't be choosey when you're the one who needs the help. And we need it. We don't have to like it, but we need it." _She could be the one who could lead a normal life. She could be the one who enjoyed the sunlight. She had all the power she ever needed to leave his shadow—trouble was she didn't seem to want to.

"I think I know where they might've gone."

"Don't tell me she's just as obsessive about that bat as he is."

"She's worse."

* * *

_You could die inside this suit._ The thought came and went like the flash of lightning over her head, never mind that her hands knew exactly what to do despite her mind's second guessing—set an anchor line. _I don't have a choice. _Even now, staring at the wreckage that was all but teetering, Del could see nothing but that long eared shape in the patches of the flashing lights behind her. It wasn't the murmur of worried chatter that seemed to pull her forward. It wasn't the solemn nod of the commissioner's silver haired head, or the relentless wind shoving at her back that had her ducking through the gaping hole in the windshield—it was nothing more than a broken cry for help.

"The only thing that's keeping this bus from falling into river is the guardrail." Red Robin murmured as he worked his way ahead of her. "It's not in good shape." He added, his cape spilling around him as he squatted down beside the first person he came to.

"The-the driver-he-he went right though." The gurgling words had Batgirl's stomach falling to her feet, something had to make the hole in the windshield—a body would've been enough. _We don't have much time. _Feeling the bus shift beneath her, the girl had no choice but to pause and force her lungs to obey. _Dad's not here to guide you this time. _The moment the groaning of metal left her ears, she could hear nothing more than the soft pleas of desperation. _Shut up and focus! He's shown you what to do, now do it! _

Paying no mind to the glass under her boots, the girl worked her way over the sideways seats, trying to pay no heed to the moaning wind or the excessive weight of her soaked cape. The suit felt like an anvil on her chest, and yet she could only focus on the huddled masses she spotted in her night vision.

"Can you—can you-" The soft croaking voice brought her to a crouch on the on the edge of a chair, more than aware that the white of the woman's eyes had grown larger at her presence. _It's you, you make everything darker. _

"I'm getting you out of here."Del uttered, watching the small child in her arms make fists into his mother's blood soaked shirt. "How bad are you hurt?" She asked, watching the woman's mouth open and close before she lifted a hand to the gash on her head. Couldn't she feel the blood? Didn't she know that half her face was covered in it?

_They're not too far from the front…but the others… _The further into the bus they went, the more tact they were going to have to use. After all, half of it was hanging over the bridge. How much weight would it take to make it tip? How much would it take to doom them all?

"It's—just…just my head…" And while the woman's shaking words reached out to her even over the drumming of the rain, Batgirl found her gaze shifting toward the movement in the shadows. Someone was getting up.

"Don't move!" The yell came ripping out just as the lightning filled the wreckage with that blinding white light. Out of the corner of her eye the girl could see the red bird's cape wiping to the side as he twisted back toward the opening he'd just crawled through with the very first passenger. Del wasn't sure what she heard first, her name tearing from his mouth, the damning sound of metal as it bent to the will of the elements, or the screams of terror as the bus began to tilt. As the woman's dark eyes went white, it hit the girl then. She wouldn't be able to hold them both. Just as the hook of her grappling gun sank into the metal that would soon become the top, Batgirl took a deep breath and ripped the boy from her arms. It's what her mother would've done, right? Del could only squeeze the child to her chest as she felt her body slam into the rows. It did nothing to dull the feel of the boy's fingers as he clawed at her suit. "MAMA!" The unprepared were falling; she could hear their soft bodies colliding into the chairs as they spilled to the bottom—the mother among them. God, how did Dad do this? How did he have the strength? _Wait! Mama has to come! Mama has to come too! _How did he have the will to peel a child from their mother?

Feeling the bus come to an uneasy stillness, Batgirl could only close her eyes as her body began to sway less and less trying to untangle the squirming child's screams from her memory's own pleas. The wreckage was completely erect. But at least…at least she could see movement below her. _Alive, they're still alive._ "Batgirl!" _Tim. _

Peering up through the rain, she could see that black caped figure working himself through the windshield as if he were making his way down a fracture in the earth.

"Still here, Red Bird. Still…here." She breathed, pressing the shaking body into her chest. "I have to get you out first. Then I'll come back for your mommy."

"No! No! You have to! You have to-"

"Keep your steps light." Tim murmured as he slid closer. "The rail's still intact but I don't how long it'll stay that way."

In other words, the countdown had begun and there wasn't much time left. With a nod she let her grappling gun rip her upward, forcing her to bend her head over the child as she felt the edges of the glass trying to hold them back. With the bang of the thunder and the flapping of her cape, she landed as softly as she could manage on the grill of the bus. _It's not on the bridge at all. _

Twisting her head up, she could see the officers peering down upon her from the bridge. "Hurry up! Get someone down there!" Even through the storms grumbling and spitting, she could still hear Gordon's voice booming over the bay. _The fire rescue is climbing down the bridge….but we don't have time to wait for them. God damn, of all the times not to have my harness. _Retracting a hook from the metal, the girl aimed for the bridge, ignoring the weight that pressed down on her as the momentum yanked her toward the gaggle of officers.

"How many are-"

"Can't talk. Not enough time." The words raced from her mouth as she all but shoved the boy into the man's arms, missing his flustered face completely as she turned back for the remains of the vehicle. _You could walk away right now and live. Or you can go back inside and possibly drown with those you're trying to save._ But before the thought could worm its way through her, Del realized that the there was nothing but air beneath her.

_We can't do this ourselves. There just isn't enough time._ The girl forced herself to swallow down the rising bile as her boots made contact with the metal. _We may not be able to save them all. _ With her teeth sinking into her lip, she reached for the bloodied hands that were wrapping around the jagged glass before her. The mother. "Almost there." She cried letting her gloved fingers wrap around the woman's wrists as she all but fell into a heap at Batgirl's feet. "How many are left?" The question fell from her mouth the second Tim worked himself from their make shift entrance. No sooner had he slid an arm around the woman's waist, did Del start working her way around him.

"Six."

Even in this light she could see that his face had grown gray and ashen. _He knows, he knows just as well as I do. There's too many._ And yet, the girl found herself sliding into the darkness once more. They had to try. They had to try to save as many as they could. She didn't have her father in her ear; she didn't have Dick to guide her. _I don't know they'd proceed. But I know what I'm going to do—what Batgirl's going to do._

* * *

_What the fuck am I doing? The GCPD is out here in droves. _And yet, in the green haze of his scope he could see that stubborn little bat crawling back inside the ruins. The bus had slid once already, forcing the guardrail to bow like a sling. The thin sheet of metal was all that was holding the wreckage to against the bridge. It'd been enough to force him out of his position._ Stop her, stop her before she kills herself. _Oh, he could only imagine what Talia would say to this. How counterproductive she'd find it. _You care for the twit! _

Maybe. Maybe she was right. Maybe he wanted more than to piss in Bruce's Wheaties. Maybe he wanted more than to untangle himself from the guilt. Maybe the next time he tasted her, she'd know just who she was kissing. But more than anything, he just wanted to keep her alive. There had to be one toy solider that made it through unbroken. Only trouble with this one was—she was breaking herself.

He didn't have time to think about all the service pieces pointed at his back as he landed in a crouch on the front of the bus. He didn't think about the metal shaking under his feet or the flicker of lights casting across the river. He could only see her surprise. Even in this light he could tell that her pale blue eyes had gone wide. She hadn't expected him to be there to reach for the elderly gentleman who was all but crawling through the gap.

"Jas…"

Pressing his finger to his lips, he could only wonder if her teeth had found that lip.

"He's not gonna…"

"No Sir, he's not gonna hurt you in any way." She said quickly, resting her gloved fingers on the gentleman's bony shoulder. "Commissioner Gordon won't let that happen. Right, Jim?" Jason didn't know what had the old cop more flustered. The fact that the Red Hood was standing there in the open, or the fact that Batgirl had just called him Jim. He seemed to pause there with his gun trapped in his hands. _Agonizing over it aren't you, Old Man? Do you shoot me or don't you? _James Gordon was still a damn good shot, gray hair or not. Wet glasses or not. The man could definitely hit his mark.

"What's he doing here?!" Oh, that's right, Batgirl wasn't alone.

"Your job, Bird Boy."

"Commissioner, you make his body fall on this bus, you could condemn these people to death. I'd appreciate it if you waited until the bus is empty." Del shot out, shoving the pair apart.

"You make one wrong move Hood, and we'll be fishing your body out of the river."

"Yeah, yeah." Jason grumbled, as he began hoisting the old man up by the waist, more than aware of Red Robin's glare at his back. "Kid you keep making that face, I'm gonna have to punch you."

"Last time we traded blows, you ran."

"I wasn't-" _I wasn't running from you. I was running toward her. _"You don't want round two, Bird Brain. You wouldn't last."

"We'll just have to see about that won't we?"

_Stubborn Fucker. _"I guess we will." Without another word, he took to the air. The cops wanted to fill him full of holes and the bird was itching to get his ass beat. At least the night was promising to be anything but boring.

* * *

"You never should've let her do this."

"Oh and I guess you could've stopped her?" Tim spat out, paying no attention to the rain that beat down on him, or the man who was working his way down the seats beside him. His eyes were below him, watching the lightning cast shadows of a slender bat along the edges of shattered glass and bent steel.

"All it takes is a little force." Hearing him, Tim couldn't stop the indignant scoff from leaving his lips. He wanted to glance at him, but kept his eyes on the girl below, watching her work a woman's arm around her neck as she coaxed the battered thing away from the seats she was pinched between.

"If you think you can force her to do anything, then you don't know her." No sooner did the hissing words fall from his lips did he feel the Red Hood's fingers gripping into his chest. If hitting the columns of chairs was supposed to be painful, he didn't feel it.

"She's doing this to make _Daddy_ look her way. And she'll sacrifice everything to do it, even herself. And if you asked her why, she'd tell you because it's the _right thing to do._" Maybe in some ways the masked man was right, but Tim's fingers didn't stop reaching for his staff. "You know what's different about us? One of us actually believes that lie. I'm not about to let her break herself for him."

"Interesting. You won't let her break." Tim croaked, watching the rain roll off Jason's mask as he tilted his head back with the point of his staff. "But you'll let someone else almost kill her. The only one who's broken…is you. She's stronger than that." Giving him a jab, Tim let the staff slide back through his hand and back into his belt. "Stop acting like you're the only one who cares about her." He added paying no attention to the dark slits Jason's eyes had become. "There's work to do. If you were a decent Robin, you'd know that."

Before Jason could rebut or put a fist into the smartass' face, he slid down his line, looking like quite the little hero when he scooped the young woman away from Batgirl. _Little Prick. No wonder Dickhead likes him._ He couldn't see Del's face, but her small pauses on the line, the deep rise and fall of her chest, those things told him all he needed to know. _She can't take much more of this_. And yet he had no choice but to endure, just as she did, dragging up one heavy body at a time as the metal tin can shook in the wind. No wonder they couldn't get the helicopter's close enough, one good gust and this shit was going down. He just didn't want to be in it when it did.

"You got number six?" He called, peering down at Batgirl and the redheaded teen that that was clinging to her. Hell, the girl had to be Del's age. Just what was a sixteen year old be doing on a bus route that ran this late?

"Y-yeah!" _Fuck. Thank God._ But that lead to a problem. If that was the last of the passengers, the GCPD would be waiting for him. _Well, fuck me. This'll be fun_. Just as soaked as the bloodied as the thin man at his side, Jason found himself stepping foot on the bridge anyway. Smart? Maybe not. _It's done. She'll stop. She'll go the hell home_. No sooner was the bald bony thing whisked into the arms of the EMTs, did he feel that slap of metal hitting his wrist_. Hmm, what's your way out of this one? _

"You come quietly Hood-"

"Leave my mask and I'll play nice." Glancing over his shoulder he could see the water trailing down the commissioner's glasses. The man's mustache only seemed to move when he sneered.

"Didn't expect you to show up for something like this." He muttered, as he reached for Jason's other wrist, but the Red Hood didn't seem all that interested in his words. It had him staring at the small bat just the same as the lightning split the darkness.

"You want to know something interesting?" He asked, watching the baby bat turn her head toward him. "Neither did I." The second another officer stepped up to escort him to the GCPD van, he couldn't help but think of all the ways he could break the kid's nose. Hell, he could strangle him with the links of the cuffs if he felt up to it. But then with this many uniforms crawling around, it'd definitely take the fun out of it.

"Did you get my sister out?!" The redheaded teenager. "Small, blonde, blue plaid shirt?!" The frantic plea was enough to still Jason's boots, hell it was enough to make the rookie who was prodding along stop and stare. _I didn't see a blonde._ And by the mini caped crusader's posture…neither did she. _Don't be stupid, don't be stupid. You're done. You can't._ Maybe the problem with unspoken words is no one hears them. The second he saw that shadow dart across the bridge, Jason felt the wind rush out of his lungs.

"Fuck." The word came out bitten as he twisted on his heel toward the man at his back. "I'm only going to tell you this once, take these off. _Now_." But when the rookie only stared at him dumfounded, Jason couldn't help but sigh. "Fine. Hard way it is." It only took one swift knock of his head to put the kid into the concrete before he could tumble back to work his cuffed hands from behind him. He had the silver keys from the kid's utility belt before they even noticed what he was up to. By then it was way too late.

* * *

_I have to._ No other choices seemed like the right ones. It didn't matter that she was clinging to the edge of exhaustion or that her oxygen tank had ran low long ago. Hell the very suit that kept her dry was all but slowly crushing her. And yet here she was, setting her hooks into the bridge once more, ignoring the Red Robin's calls or the Red Hood's commotion completely as she dove off the bridge, planting her feet into what was left of the windshield.

There was a brief moment as she was sure she'd just continue to fall, that was until she reached the end of her line, letting her own weight sling her into the sides of the aisles, knocking the very wind from her lungs. Every ache, every burn- all a reminder of the choice she'd made. "Where are you?! Tell me where you are!"

As the wind and rain shoved and beat at what was left of the wreckage, the girl had to strain to hear the soft whimpering over the groaning of metal and scraping glass. "I'm here! I'm here!" Such a small plea. But then the girl was equally small herself. She was nothing more than little girl stuffed beneath the very last seat. She had to be what? Seven? Maybe eight? "I'm stuck." The words were nothing more than a simple sob, and yet the child looked as though she'd lost the will to cry.

As Batgirl's cape spilled out around her, the child only seemed to shrink into a smaller ball, too terrified to try and run, even more scared of the idea of moving at all, as if she knew just how unbalanced her world had become. "I'm gonna get you out, but I need you to be nice and still. Can you do that for me?"

"Y-yes."

_My acid's about empty._ Even Del knew the thought was an empty one, a ruse to keep her mind off the shaking she felt around her. Time was almost up. "Don't touch it." The girl warned, watching the dark irises of the child's eyes grow larger as the acid began to eat at the metal legs of the chair, leaving holes for the wind to rush through in its wake. Working carefully to her feet, the child could only watch as Batgirl worked the chair away from its bolts, leaving her enough space to crawl out of. Only when she reached into her belt for a grappling gun did the bat speak again.

"I'm going to grab you on three. One. Two. Three." Grabbing the child, Del felt her muscles beginning to protest as they were ripped up the line. The child didn't so much a make a sound, instead she clung, pressing herself so tight into the girl's chest that she was certain her lungs would never work again. Around them the metal groaned and scraped, and suddenly it was moving, pulling away from them as they were pulling themselves free from it. "Keep your head down!" _We're gonna make it. We'll be fine._ She could hear the wind whistling through the gap just above her head. It didn't matter that the heap of metal would be swallowed by the river, or that there was glass and rain falling at her back, they were almost free. That was until the line snapped under the weight of the shifting bus.

There wasn't time to panic, fuck, there wasn't time to think. The suction of the wreckage would surely drown them both. But as the weight of her body jerked, Del found a new pressure around her arm. Gloves. Black gloves. Suddenly the bus was falling below them, and her body was crashing into the bones of the bridge, forcing a gasp to hiss from her as she tried to keep the girl pressed into her chest with her free arm. Glancing up, Del could only find the shape of points that were much smaller than her own. _Dick? _No. Those eyes were much too narrow. _Dad._

* * *

Feeling fingers peel at the opening of her cape, the girl realized that her father wasn't alone. "It's…okay." She murmured to the girl, surprised by the hoarseness of her own voice. "Red Robin isn't gonna let you fall-I promise." Only when the child's trembling arms encircled around Tim's neck completely did her father reach for her free hand, it was as if he knew everything in her body had turned to nothing more than dead weight inside her suit. _I can't breathe. _She realized as she all but spilled into a heap at her father's feet, aware that his own hands were keeping her from ripping her cowl away.

"Take the first layer off! She can't breathe damn it!" With her head resting on the puddled concrete, Del could see nothing but the tips of Jason's boots as he darted in, digging his own blade into her suit, slashing at the tendons of the armor and vessels of circuits faster than her own father's knife. The second the armor plating peeled away, Del forced her chest to fill, sure her own gasping was louder than the rumbling of the clouds over their heads. The coughs at the back of her throat came dry and vaguely tasted of blood. And yet, as she forced herself to roll to her hands and knees she caught the sight of her father's hand fisting into Jason's Jacket.

"Go. _Now_. Go!" Jase seemed to hesitate, as if his own limbs weren't sure if they should move at all. But with a glance toward the uniforms the young man twisted around and shot for the dark more than aware of the pounding of boots that was following after him.

"There's no way they could catch him like that." Tim murmured as he slid the girl's arm around his shoulders, paying no mind to the flash of bewilderment on her face. _I can't even…I can't even…_ "I've got'cha." _God, he's reading my mind again. _

Hell, she could've kissed him for it…if her mouth didn't taste like blood and her father wasn't standing two feet away. He just looked so damn angry, staring at her with those narrowed eyes and that grim set mouth.

"In trouble. I know." She croaked, watching him as he swept up the remnants of her suit. And yet she still managed to look beyond him, where the two sisters seemed to melt together in the sheen of the light bars. _Everyone's safe._ It was enough to get her father to twist his head.

"We can't stay here." He uttered, turning his attention back to her. "If I have to carry-"

"No!" she spat. "A certain demon child would never let me live that down."

"Clara, no!" No sooner had the words echoed through the darkness, did Batgirl feel the slightest of tugs on her cape. It was enough make her pause, pulling her own father to a standstill. There on the edges of the flashing lights was that blonde headed thing, tattered and wringing her slender fingers together. "I just…I just wanted to um…" As Del forced herself to her knee she was sure she'd melt into the ground. The simple gesture was enough to send the child forward, before Del could even take her next breath the thing had her arms around her. Beyond her, the redhead paced, biting on her lip as the lightning cracked above their heads. "Thank you." Rain. Blood. Dirt. Del embraced it all, until the child began to slip away from her.

"Welcome." But as the girl's thin little arms slid from her gloves, something caught her attention. It was enough to keep the child's fingers in her own, despite how she tugged. Something was just beneath her sleeve. "Can I see what's on your arm?" The little wraith went absolutely still. It was enough to send her sister charging forward—until Batman held up his hand, rooting her right there on the bridge. "Please?" Even in these shadows she could see the child's face twisting as if she were struggling with the idea, but then her head only nodded, working her small hand from Batgirl's gloved fingers.

_Don't let me be right. Don't let me be right._ But as the child rolled up her sleeve under the flash of the stormy light, Del felt her stomach drop to her feet. Nine circles. "Who did this to you?" The question had barely left her lips when the child's sister ran up and snatched her by the hand.

"You didn't see us." She breathed, yanking her sister to her side as Tim's hand reached out. "You don't understand. It's safer that way."

"Wait! We could help you." But even as the boy's voice chased after them, neither one glanced back.

"Let them go."

"But-"

"Let them go." Batman said again, his heavy cape pooling around him as he kneeled beside the melted batgirl, forcing his arms beneath her as he lifted her from the ground tattered suit and all.

"I thought…I said-"

"Your point's only valid if the boy finds out."

* * *

_Almost. I almost lost you. _Was she trying to go for the record? _Tim's on his way home, and she's right next to you. It's fine. _But as the bat took a sidelong glance to the passenger seat, he could feel his tight chest caving in. The lights of the city only shed across the small crumbled heap in flickers. Batgirl was anything but fine. Sitting this close to her he could hear the air wheezing out of her lungs. Smaller lungs only meant more work for her heart. "Nothing I say to you is going to make through that thick skull of yours, is it?"

"Depends…" She croaked, lifting her head from her hands. "…on what you say." She muttered pushing her damp hair from her face as she tilted her head to the window. _So we're back to that are we?_ But just as he felt the command coming to his lips, she turned her head, letting those familiar blue eyes stay on him. "I know you're mad at me…" She said, stopping to let a cough squeak out of her lungs. "But what I don't understand…is why."

"Why?! What do you mean you don't know why?! What did I tell this morning? What did I tell you I wanted you to do?" When his daughter's shoulders only slumped and her pale lipped mouth shrank, the man couldn't help but let his ragged sigh fill the space between them. "I told you to take it easy. I told you I wanted you to recover. Isn't that what I said?!" The girl beside him only let her eyes lashes hide her eyes as she sat there and a shivered, digging her hands into her knees as if the pain of her own nails would stop her quivering muscles. "Is that what I wanted you to do? Answer me."

"Yes."

"I have half a mind to send you to boarding school."

"They needed help! They could've died!"

"And so could you!"

"Damn it Dad! You're such a hypocrite!" She cried, her voice rising in pitch.

"I'm a hypocrite who's been at this longer than you've been alive." He said evenly, watching her eyes widen when she realized the car had stopped. "And if I honestly thought shipping you off would keep you from acting so stupid," he stated as he grabbed the girl by the chin. "I'd do it. But it wouldn't stop you. I know that." He said letting her face drop as the hatch hissed open. "I'm not mad at you for saving someone else's life." He snapped, reaching over and ripping the belts off of her when she struggled to untangle herself. But before the girl could even begin to make the climb out of the car he had her by the shoulders. Even now she felt so small in his hands. "You went to _Arkham_. What the hell do you think you were doing?! That's no place-"

"St. James wouldn't tell Batgirl the same things he'd tell Delilah Wayne." She uttered, mashing her teeth down on inside of her lip when the quivering rolled up her spine. The adrenaline was all but spent. "He sells _product_ to Nine Circles. Said so himself. He was only paid off to kill Mom…" She said more than aware that her father was easing back from her as her words leaked out. "But when he saw me, he thought he could make a little extra. Someone paid for me in advance_. If I'd known you were a Wayne, I could've made a killing…" _

Del didn't recognize the hoarse laugh that was clawing its way out of her throat. Hell, she didn't even feel her heavy head sinking into her father's gloved fingers either. "I could've been no different than those girls on the bridge…we have to find them…we have to."

"And we will, I've already forwarded the information to Dick and Damian. I'll look for them myself, but first-"

"You're going back out there? Your head isn't healed all the way…"

"Who are _you_ to chastise _me_?" He said, forcing the girl's arm around his shoulder as he peeled her from the car.

"You're not done yelling at me…are you?"

"No."

_Great. He's waiting until you feel a little better before he really lays into you. _She thought, trying to bite back her hisses as she let her eyes adjust to the long dim space hidden within the walls of the penthouse.

"You're not to leave." He said suddenly, fishing her own phone out of her belt. Before she could open her mouth he he'd taken the device apart and was pulling out the SIM card and replacing it with another. "I've limited your contacts. You're computer has already been modified. As soon as Alfred's done with you, I want you in bed. Is that clear?"

"Yes."

"I have your medication already prepared, Miss."

"Alfred, don't give her all of it." Her father said, making the old man's face fill with alarm. But her father's eyes were on her. "Feel like hell, don't you?" When the girl finally nodded she could see his lip twitching. "Good. I want you to remember what this feels like."

* * *

"Aiden! C'mon, stop! Why couldn't we ask them for help?!"

What else could she do but turn on the little thing she was pulling along. Even in the darkness of the alley her little blue eyes had gone large. "You know what would happen if we did! Do you want to be split up? Is that what you want?!"

"But-but they're going to send me into the pits! I-I-"

The older girl twisted around, dragging the wet thin into her arms as she kneeled there in the dimpled concrete. "I won't let that happen. I haven't let that happen yet, have I?" The smallest sister shook her head. "Besides, you know what would happen if they knew what I did."

"I'm dying to know…just what exactly did you do?" Jason called forcing the girl's to lift their heads as he pulled himself from his crouch. The second he spotted the pair running from the scene, he could help but to see where they'd lead him. He expected them to sneak back home, not dart through the heart of Gotham like they were running for their lives.

"That's none of your business." The redhead called back, shoving her sister behind her as the man leapt down from the building before them.

"Are you always this polite after someone saves your life?"

"Just go away. Batman let us go, you should too."

"I'm not Batman." He snapped, attempting to shrug of his jacket. God, why'd they have to look so damn pathetic? Or maybe the smaller one looked a little too similar to another blonde haired child.

"You don't understand! If we're not back in time-if they know that we ran-"

"Leave them be, Hood." Watching the older girl pull her sister along the wall as that familiar voice rang out over the storm, the Red Hood shrugged back into his coat. Damn that annoying little bird.

"You still looking to get your ass beat?" he asked, with a tilt of his head. He didn't expect the kid to make the first move. Or that he'd clip the only part of him that wasn't covered by Kevlar. The small gap between his mask as his suit. "I'll take that as a yes."

* * *

_I know this…I know this place. This place covered in snow._ _Why is it scaring you? It's the gardens_. But it certainly didn't look the same. But as she opened the door, letting the howling wind pull her forward, Del could feel nothing but her own trembling as she slipped into the outside world of white. _That jacket…it's… _"Jason?" She froze there as he turned about, cupping his hands over something she couldn't see.

"Careful." He murmured, tilting his head toward her bare feet. There lying just a few inches away was a Robin in the snow. _Dead_. Lifting her eyes, she couldn't stop the gasp from squeezing out of her lungs, the frozen ground was all but littered with the red breasted birds. She thought to shrink away, to run back for the safety of the house, and yet she could hear that leather coat scuffing as he held out his hand. "You're going to be fine." The second his cool fingers wrapped around hers he yanked her forward, crushing her cheek into the teeth of the zipper on his coat. "He got my chance. He got everything that should've been mine."

"What are you-"

"Even you…" Feeling his icy hands on her cheek she forced herself to lift her head, more than aware how heavy the very motion felt. The harder her muscles shook the harder he squeezed her to his chest. From here she could see the blood drying at the side of his mouth. His eye was almost purple.

"What happened to you?" But his slender lips only seemed to tug into a rueful smile as he bent his head to hers.

"Don't worry about me." He murmured, making the space between them grow warm with his breath. "I won't let you break. I promise." The second his lips touched hers, she could feel nothing but the weight of his chest against her palms. This kiss- this firm kiss that tasted vaguely like blood… Even as she felt her lips trembling to move, his lips were still there, stealing her exhales.

"I- can't. I can't…" She uttered, feeling her own hands shoving at him as he released her own lip from his. "…breathe." She gasped as last, the very word forcing him to give her some space.

"I'll put your mask back on." He muttered before pressing his lips to her forehead, god they felt like fire on her skin. Only then did she notice his fisted hand. "Go back to sleep." She could feel the words humming from his chest as she pried his fingers open, revealing the Robin patch hidden in his palm.

"Jase…"

"Go back to sleep, Pipsqueak. When you feel up to it…look for where the trains began. One of your birds will be waiting for you."

* * *

_So many dead robins._ Opening her eyes darkness, it took the girl a moment to realize where she was as she tried to make sense of the shapes beyond her nebulizer mask. And yet each time she blinked her eyes she could still see that snow ridden field covered with the small frozen bodies. It was enough to make her lungs shudder for air. The girl had no choice but to rip off her mask just as the light from the hall cut through the darkness.

"Miss Wayne?" Before she could utter a sound the man had a hand on her back and a trash bin by her head just as everything started to come up. "Easy now, Poppet. I suspect that's the medication making you ill." He murmured as he rose from the edge of her bed. "And this window," he added crossing the space. "It's a bit too chilly and wet to have it open."

With her nebulizer mask still in her fingers, Del let herself fold back down on the mattress, watching the old man's slender shadow. _I don't remember opening…_But before she could open her mouth to say so, Alfred was at her side again, rescuing the mask from her fingers. "Not quite done with this, I'm afraid." He said gently as he propped it back in place. But as the girl stared at him through the soft sheen of plastic she could only see something else blocking her vision, the smudgy prints of a pair of lips_. I was dreaming… _"I'll come take it off of you when the dosage is up." Alfred murmured, winning a soft nod from the girl as he pushed her stray hair behind her ear. "Do try to get some sleep." _Sleep. _Watching the man slip through the door the girl let herself stretch out, more than willing to try the idea on for size…until her fingers felt something coarse. Rolling to her back, Del pulled the object out from under her pillow, unsure of what her fingers had found until a flicker of lightning revealed the heavily embroidered _R_.

"_He got my chance. He got everything that should've been mine." _Ripping the mask away, Del kicked at the blankets, feeling a curse bubble to her lips when she all but spilled to the floor. _Tim! This is Tim's patch! Why would…unless you were only half dreaming…Get up. Get up now! You have to find Tim!_

Willing her legs to stand, Delilah staggered her way to the door, so sure that Alfred would hear the latch loosen the second she opened it. But as she peered down the dark hall for the light of the open kitchen she saw nothing. Under the murmur of the television the girl tip toed her way through the hall, until she came to the spot in the wall she knew would give under her weight. _So far…no Alfred. _Sliding into the make shift base, the girl let the wall slide back in place without a sound. It was empty. _Your suit's in tatters. _"O!"

"_Shouldn't you be in bed?"_

"Where is Tim?! Have you heard from him?"

"Not lately…he's supposed to be home."

"Check! NOW!" She hissed at the computer before she ran for the cases that lined the wall._ I'll just have to use the original. _But as the girl's fingers flew over the key pad, the keypad only flashed at her. _Permission Denied._

"_What the hell is he doing there?!"_

The words were enough to make the girl's head shoot up. "Where?! By the old train station?!"

"_How'd you know-" _

_I have to get to him. I have to._ Spying one of Nightwing's staffs Del snatched it from the wall, not warning Barb about the noise as the rod smashed through the case. _"What are you doing?!"_

"Barrowing your old suit."

"_I've unlocked your bike. You've got a three minute window before I let your father know you're out there." _

"Thanks, O."

"_Hey, I know what it's like to have one of those knuckleheads as a partner."_

* * *

"Dad knows." Del hissed biting back her curses as the engine of her bike kicked off forcing her to leap from it. The staggering bat didn't flinch as the bike scraped into the pavement behind her, casting her shadow along the alley walls with the dying headlight. It was in that glimmer of light she could see a glimpse of red before her. _Tim. _"Robin!" She wasn't sure if he could hear her over the grumbling clouds that loomed above their heads. Hell, she couldn't even remember closing the space between them; she didn't feel the concrete biting into her knees as she all but slid to the ground beside the Robin's broken body. "I'm here…I'm…here." She chanted, thankful to feel his chest shuddering under her arms when she cupped that bloodied face in her hands.

Watching his lips open the girl could only press in closer, trying to pay no attention to the feel of his fingers gripping around her arm. "They're…not…gone." _They? _But as the girl heard the sound of boots scuffing on the concrete, she had no choice but to lift her head. Only then could she see all the shadows the lightning had shed around her. The girl was already pulling her feet beneath her when she heard that voice reach out to her. "Guess what boys, the bird's still breathing_." I don't have any equipment…but…_ Breaking from Tim's hand, she worked her fingers around the staff in his belt. "We'll have to fix that, but first let's get rid of the little bat."

It was only by force that Del managed to leap up to her feet, knocking the man's head back as she spun around with that staff in her hand. "No one touches my birds!" She cried, forcing her lungs to obey when the rushed in.

_How…how is she doing this? Where's her second wind coming from?_ Hearing the blood gurgle in the back of his own throat, the boy had no choice but to watch the exhausted wraith fend them off one at a time, letting the bodies pile around her as she all but struggled to catch her breath. One moment he and Jason settling an old score—beating the shit out of each other in the process, and the next he knew…they were…surrounded. _ There's too many for her. She's too tired. _But before a warning could spring from his lips to warn her about the shadows behind her, a cane came down with a crack, sending the body slumping to the ground behind her. _It can't be…_

When Jack Drake all but dropped to his knees in the puddle at his side, Tim was sure he stopped breathing completely. Behind him he could see Batgirl collapsing to the ground stretching her arm out to the man. "Wait! Please!" But it was too late, Tim could feel his father's trembling fingers peeling his mask away. The rain felt like needles falling on his raw face.

"Oh, my boy, my stupid, stupid boy." There was a time he'd thought he father was incapable of lifting him, and yet the man was all but peeling up his body and crushing him to his chest.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry, Dad." The words seemed to break free from him all on their own as he forced his arm around the man's wet shoulders. "I …couldn't tell you." He uttered, feeling his own breath well into his father's neck before the man slowly let him go. It was only when he had the space could he see that dark glove on his father's shoulder.

"So it's you." Jack Drake said evenly as he lifted his gaze to the Bat at his side. Tim could only hold his breath as the man worked himself back up to his feet by the grip of his cane. "Who the hell are you people?!"

"The only people who'll stand up for this godforsaken place." Watching the girl shrug away from Dick's hold to step toward his father, Tim had to suck in a breath as he struggled to work to his feet. _Stop her,stop her! _But it was too late, the mask was gone. "Your son's one of them, and so am I."

* * *

**A/N: **I'm sure the boys will let us know what they _really_ think in the next few chapters. So we'll be getting the scoop on what happened from both of them a little at a time. They're both a bit prideful.

I know some of you are torn! It's supposed to be that way I'm afraid. They all need different things from one another. Right now I'm kicking myself for what I'm about to do in the next chapter. I hate to do it, but it's gotta happen. I'm sure you'll understand. Things are about to start snowballing, so hold tight. Next chapter: **Fallen**

I've been going back and re-reading some of these chapters. I'm actually getting excited about the rewrites. Nothing major, just a lot of polishing. :D


	28. Fallen

**A/N:** The boys totally ran away with this one. I'm just going to say I wasn't expecting Jason or Damian to take it hostage. (And Bruce...but he's Batman so...he does what he wants.) it didn't quite end the way I was expecting. Hope you like it.

* * *

He didn't remember his body aching this much the last time he'd peeled himself from the suit. Hell, he didn't remember there being such a mess when he left either. "That girl…" He muttered shaking his head at the broken case just out of his reach.

As Alfred Pennyworth righted himself with a dustpan full of glass shards, he could only sigh at his master's rueful smile. "Is stubborn like someone else I know." The old man said with a jut of his chin. "She has nothing but good intentions. You know that as just as well as I do, Master Bruce."

"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, Alfred." The man said suddenly, before working a clean shirt over his head. "I'm trying to keep her off that road."

"Speaking from experience, Sir?"

"She just won't listen." He said, too aware that his own voice was echoing through the space as he collected up the pieces of his suit. "She's worse than the boys! She defies me at every turn! I give her an inch and she takes off!"

"Who would've thought a cute little girl could be worse?"

Setting his suit back in its case he could see the smirk brightening up Alfred's face in the reflection. "I could've lost her…" He murmured, watching his own breath fog up the glass. If the old man behind him had anything to say about the fingerprints he left behind, the man said nothing.

"But you didn't Master Bruce." Alfred said gently, not daring to take another step forward. "And had it not been for her…recklessness as you see it- what would've happened to those people tonight? What would've happened to Master Tim?"

"I don't know." Bruce uttered with a shake of his head. "I just don't want her sacrificing herself-"

"Like you? Not to wound you, Sir, but selflessness doesn't come as naturally to you as is does your daughter. Your penance is her passion." He said, watching the man slide his suit back in its case. Whether the Bruce Wayne wanted to hear it or not, he was a selfish man in the beginning—a man who had to be taught how to be selfless.

"Like her mother…" The words hung there for a moment, clinging to the glass in a thin sheet of fog. Even now, watching that man press his fingers on the case, Alfred could hear the regret building in the man's voice. How long before he'd finally forgive himself for losing her? "I just don't want her making the same mistakes…"

"If you want her to learn from your mistakes, then perhaps you should show her how." Alfred said softly, watching Bruce's hand fall to his side with a nod of his head.

"Where is she?"

"Just follow the smell of popcorn, Sir." Watching him slide behind the wall without so much of a sound, the old butler felt something tighten inside his chest as he eyed what the master had left behind on the glass. He never did bring himself to wipe Ursa Minor from the case.

* * *

"_Faster Mama!"_

"_Hold on, Baby Girl." _

He expected to hear anything, anything in this world, but the moment that voice slid from under those double doors—he couldn't move. Even with the blithe laugh of an excited child squealing echoing out after it, Bruce felt his hands grow still on the latches. _I never thought…I'd hear you again._

* * *

Wait! Batman! You can't go in there!" God their voices felt like they were miles away. He was dreaming right? He was going to wake up soon from this nightmare. He'd realize that this weight wasn't the cape. Maybe he was strangling himself with the sheets again? But the closer to the room he became, the louder his heart thumped in his ears_. I have to see her… _The only thing that made the Dark Knight pause there in that hall was the sight of Thomas Elliot backing through the door with his bloodied hands. His narrow green eyes rounded at the sight of the caped crusader, but as he peeled the gloves away, he started to shake his head.

"You can talk to her…" He rasped, peeling the scrub cap from his head. "But I don't know how much help to you she'll be. I couldn't stop the bleeding, so I made her as comfortable as I could." _You've known her for almost as long as I have… _"I guess neither of us could save her." But as Tommy slid away from him, raking his damp red hair, the man paused. "She has a daughter…where is she?"

"Safe. The girl's safe."

The doctor nodded. "Thank God. Excuse me…there's an important call to make."

Waiting for the nurses to file out of that low lit room, he couldn't take his eyes off of her. _This is it. _Why the hell was his throat so tight? The second that door closed behind him, her lashes lifted showing him those bright eyes.

"B…"

He didn't even remember taking the steps to get to her bedside, he just remembered ripping off his gloves and letting those cold fingers slide into his.

"Del…where's-"

"Shhh. She's safe. Alfred's taking her to the manor as we speak." He murmured_. It isn't supposed to happen like this. _"So…Tommy said-" But before the words could even escape his mouth, one of her hands untangled from his to cup against his lips.

"You can lie to the world…" she whispered, paying no mind to what those lips were doing to the inside of her palm. "…but you'll never be able to lie to me." How could she smile at him like that with those tears falling into her hair? "Big ol' Batman's not afraid of a little girl, is he?" She asked suddenly, letting her teeth sink into her lip when the man all but pulled her body into his arms. Even now she felt so weak and limp in his hold, trembling like her lips.

"You're her mother. She needs you, not me." He murmured trying to ignore the stinging in his eyes as his mouth moved against hers. _This armor…it could be hurting her. _He thought to release her and yet, he could do was focus on of her fingertips tracing over his knuckles. He hadn't been able to take his gloves off at the scene…but now…

"All girls need their fathers. Keep her safe…keep her happy…and love her. It won't be easy…but I know…I know you can do it."

"Stop. Stop talking like that." He groaned, not sure if the tears he tasted were hers or his. "We were supposed to do this together. Stay with me. We'll find some way-"

But as her trembling lips pressed against his, mixing the taste of her with tears and blood, the words were all but swallowed between them. "As long as she's with you…you have all of my heart…my world. I'll always be with you." She whispered, forcing him to jolt when the warmth of her breath slipped through the edges of his cowl to touch his cheek. "She's the best thing I …ever made. And I made her…with _you_." She uttered, bringing her hand to his chin. "You can't let anyone…take that away. Promise me. Promise me you'll do those things..."

Her body was starting to feel so light, God, like it was losing a part of her a little at a time. And yet all the bat could do…all the man could do—was cup the back her head in his hand and bend his face into her, feeling those shaky breaths as they reached out to touch him. "I promise…I promise. Just stay. Stay with me."

"That's…Tommy." She croaked as the phone in his belt began to hum between them. If he didn't know any better he'd swear that laugh was hanging around in her voice. "Remember…how we met?"

"I remember how you _fell on me_." And yet the snarky words had that feeble body shivering in his arms as a hoarse laugh tried to escape from her.

"I never…apologized." She said weakly. Even in this light he could see her lips slowly breaking into a rueful smile. "Kinda like…how you never said you were sorry for stealing that kiss."

"Still not sorry." _I'll never be sorry, not for that._

"Neither am I..."

* * *

_If I had known that was the last thing you'd hear me say, I would've said something else. _Standing there with the crown of his head leaning on the doors, all he could feel was the heaviness of his own words. _I was selfish. I didn't once think of how afraid you must've been…_ Even as his hands pressed down on the door handles, he could feel the weight of her body slipping from him. He'd never known a soul could be so heavy until hers had left—hell up until that point he wasn't even sure he believed in such things. Huh. That would be just like her to try and prove a point at the very end.

Forcing a breath in and out of his lungs, he shoved a door open. He didn't expect Del to look so small…or so frail. Maybe it's the soft sheen on the cannulas that bothered him most. In the glare of the TV her eyes were almost glassy.

He almost wanted to pause there in the middle of the room and watch the pair on the sand caked horse. _You've always been fearless though haven't you?_ He mused, watching the woman grip the reins in one hand and clutch that wide eyed toddler with the other. _Like someone else I know_. Del had her little arms stretched straight out, she was laughing so hard she had to tilt her head back into her mother to hold it up. It was like she felt she was flying. Even Bruce Wayne could feel his lips parting to smile ever so slightly.

"I was riding by myself at that age." Damian muttered, twisting away from the desk he'd overtaken to lean in and snag the untouched bowl of popcorn.

"Sure you were." The girl sighed, winning herself a glower before he turned back to the piles of paperwork and the confiscated popcorn bowl.

"Damian, give us the room." The boy just sat there staring at him, giving him the same hard glare he had on his face when he stopped the boy from pommeling Jack Drake. What Bruce didn't expect was for his daughter's slender arm to reach out and touch Damian on the shoulder.

"Please? He's just here to lecture me. You want to hear two in one night?" Watching the boy's lip's form into a snarl, he shoved himself up from the computer chair. "Take the files if you want. You can debrief Dick when he gets back. Just don't lose-"

"I know how to handle paperwork! I'm not stupid like you." He snapped, as he stuffed everything back into the expanding folder and stormed his way out the door with Perry's files under his arm. "Let's go, Mongrel." That's all it took to have the Doberman crawling off the bed and following the boy out the door.

"He needs his own dog." The girl mumbled, face pinching as she forced herself to sit up. "I want mine back."

"Why aren't you sleeping?" Bruce asked, easing himself in the still warm chair. When was the last time he sat in this room? Pressing his wrist to her head his frown only deepened. "You're a little warm."

"I'm tired, but my brain won't shut up." She said simply, feeling the side of her mouth purse as she glanced at the purple mark that had taken up her father's cheek. Jack got a good one in. "How would you know what sleep looked like anyway?" It didn't exactly make the man smile, but it was enough to get him to pry his eyes from the screen. "How's Tim?"

"Bruised and a bit broken, but he'll live."

"And Jack?"

"Angry. Confused…and scared for his son. It's expected. I can't say I'd act any differently if the shoe was on the other foot."

"Do you think…do you think he'll let Tim…will he…will he come back?"

"Jack made him give up the mantle in exchange for his silence." Bruce said calmly, not liking the bitter taste of the words that were lining up in his mouth. "And you too." No matter how slow the words came out, there was no taking them back. Sure there was something between them, you had to be a fool not to see it. But as his daughter sank into her mound of pillows, clutching her fisted hands to her chest, the feeble thing said nothing at all. She kept her eyes forward, as if he wouldn't be able to see her struggle to keep her emotions in check. "He's doing what he thinks is best, that's his prerogative as a father." He said, listening to the hiss of her exhale.

_Without Tim…I don't know if Dick will be able to cut himself free. _"I see." She whispered, paying no mind to him at all as he lifted himself from the chair. It was moments like this she'd run to Dick or even Alfred, but in that moment…all she had was him. "It's not like…it's not like we were..."

"_Alright, Miss Thing, you want to give it a try all by yourself?" _

"_Yes!"_

"Move over, Kid." Before the girl could carefully pick her words, Bruce shoved the popcorn bowl at her as he stole one of her pillows. True, the movie buff hadn't enjoyed a movie (Or any social interaction involving popcorn.) since Jason. His daughter certainly didn't know what to think of it. This was Dick's area of expertise. And who did she think he learned that from?

"Popcorn needs salt."

"No it doesn't." If he had any complaints about her using him as pillow, he said nothing. "I bet you're one of those freaks who like it slightly burned too." Del added, biting back her confusion as her ears welcomed that familiar sound of air rushing from his lungs. _I feel so small again. _She thought as they watched her mother her two year old self onto the bareback horse. Both child and animal were soggy-glittering with sand, soaked with sweat and yet Del's grin could've rivaled the Cheshire Cat.

"_Sit up nice and straight. Perfect, just like that. Now squeeze with your heels and what do you say?"_

"_Paige, I don't know if I like this. Surely there's a more suitable mount-" _

"_Walk on." _

"_Oh, come now, Mama, she's fine. Aren't you, Little Bit?" _

"You like him." It was enough to make Del recoil her fingers from the popcorn bowl—enough to make her body feel as if it weren't breathing. It wasn't like he asked her a question, but with her so unwilling to make any sudden moves, the man didn't have to.

"He's-he's easy to talk to." She uttered, more than aware of that hard stare that was looking down at her now. "And we think alike…sometimes...he's my friend and I…" Even in this faint glow he could see her chewing on her bottom lip before she all but buried her head in his side. "I don't want to talk about it! You'll think it's stupid!" She groaned, peeking out so she could watch the child on the screen ride in careful circles around her mother.

What? Did she think he couldn't see that faint flush creeping up her cheeks? "It's not stupid." He murmured, letting his gaze drift back to the TV, Paige and that beaming smile on her face.

"Yeah, well, I still don't want to be talking about it with _you_." _Oh for Pete's sake, I rather you lecture me!_

"You two just act stupid when you're together."

"DAD! I had to! He would've-"

But there's one more thing, Kid." He said, squeezing that frail thing to his side as he watched the horse toss its head and pick up into a trot that the child didn't ask for. Before anyone knew it the horse was bucking, kicking up sand and sea water as the he unceremoniously dumped his tiny rider right into the surf. "You won't be going out there for a while either."

"You said light duty!" She cried wincing as her voice edged out into nothingness.

"I changed my mind." He said firmly, catching her by the chin when that incredulous look began to sour her face. "You're only going to get in the way."

"_**Dad**_-"

"You don't have the same stamina or strength you had before. You have to rebuild it."

"_See! This is exactly why-"_

But as Bruce glanced up, he could see a hand reaching out from behind the camera. She wasn't crying or screaming. She was just sitting there in the sand completely and utterly dumbfounded. "_Just a bit of sand burn, that's nothing." _

"_You alright, Del?" _

"_Y-yeah." _

"_Anything broken?" _

"_No." _

"_Alright then, get back up and dust yourself off." _As her mother brought back the sulking bay horse, little Delilah did as she was bid and peeled herself out of the wet sand.

"You've fallen." Bruce said evenly. "I know you'll get back up." He said, letting his gaze wander to the screen as Paige bent down in her cotton dress to lift the child onto the horse once more. "I just want to make sure that the ground is solid beneath your feet when you do." Letting his hands fall he could see the sheen of tear tracks on her cheek. "Make no mistake, Del. This city is going to do everything it can keep you on your knees."

"So where do we start?"

"_What was the bouncy one he was doing before he got all ornery, Mama?"_

"_A trot." _

"_I wanna do that one again." _

"_Well, Baby Cakes," Paige said as she put the reins back into her daughter's small hands. "The trot comes after the walk, so let's start from the beginning." _With that Paige backed up, letting the coils of the lunge line loosen in her hand.

"Like your mother said…from the beginning." That was enough to make a soundless laugh spill out of the girl. Only when her shuddering stopped did she use the ends of her sleeves to wipe the wetness from her cheeks.

"I wish I could remember this…"

"I'm sure you do, just not the way you think." After all, he wasn't the one who taught her how to get back up after a fall. "Where'd you get this?" He asked, stopping to clear his throat as he watched that triumphant smile cross the child's face.

"When we ran into Mr. Drake…he was with Uncle Beau. He gave it to me."

"Jack Drake and Beau Devereux?" Now, wasn't that curious?

"I know, I don't like it either." Delilah muttered, watching the clip fade from one to another. Another time and yet another place she couldn't remember. "You didn't happen to bring a book with you, did you?"

"No."

"Ah, so this _was_ lecture time, huh?"

"I'm not _that_ predictable." Bruce scoffed, trying to ignore the wispy grin that was crawling across his daughter's face.

"Um, yeah…you kinda are."

"Says the child who always manages to weasel her way out of my lectures."

"I do not!" Del shot back. "But I always try…"

"Try my patience."

"That too." Del mumbled, pretending she could feel her father's glare on her shoulder as she pulled her blanket around her. "So…do you have a story for me or not?"

"No. I have a lecture for you if you want to hear that."

"Aw, _c'mon_. You gotta have one. Just one. It'll help me go to sleep. Please?"

_You don't know what's coming for you._ The public had only seen the mysterious child as a dutiful daughter and citizen. The whiplash was coming and he was bracing himself for it. The ripples that had been caused were still so small, but they wouldn't stay that way. Before this, he was prepared, prepared to warn her about the coming storm, to chastise her for her recklessness. But the weight of her head only flooded him with nostalgia. "One." _Damn it, she got me again, the little weasel._ Maybe it was just as well, the girl was going to need all her strength.

"One _good_ one."

Demanding little brat—"The first time I ever saw your mother, I remember thinking that her eyes were more green than brown. I recall thinking to myself that she was going to fall out of that tree she was climbing. Like a fool, I never bothered to move…"

* * *

The days were starting to bleed together, Del wasn't sure if it had to do with the medication, the sleep, the gut wrenching headlines or the colorless skies. The medicine had only stripped of her appetite—and the stress…that ate everything else, leaving behind a wraith looking creature. She looked sick. She certainly felt sick-sick of feeling weak and useless. But at least Alfred said everything looked like it was healing properly—slower than he liked, but she was mending. The cardiologists came and went with nothing new to report other than to wade back into her activities slowly. Slowly? Who the hell had the time for that?

It was news neither she nor Damian wanted to hear. A week into this slump, and child was moody as ever. She'd hoped that maybe practicing with Dick would keep him pacified...it only went so far. If she wasn't the one sneaking out, it was him. Go figure. No one ever expected that her condition would have such a profound effect on him. The question was, why?

When the need for oxygen slipped from her grasp, her father began to slide her into an agonizingly slow routine. Up before the sun—before the city, before Wayne Tower came to life, she'd run the stairs. A simple task in words, but a task that had her newly trimmed lungs ready to burst. When she could finally reach the penthouse without melting into a vomiting—shaking- pile of shit—he'd let her move on but not before.

_**-Two weeks after the Incident-**_

"Why are they turning on her like this? It's not like she's the one who-"

"Master Dick, please…"

Pulling her knees, to her chest, Del let herself settle on the rooftop, more than aware that her Wayne Enterprises sweatshirt was patched with sweat. Gotham was barely awake and yet the city was already showing its claws. Even from here, she could hear Dick wadding the newspaper. _It's not like I'm the one who pulled the trigger. _The thought was just as bitter as the coffee in her cup. Of course the girl knew that they were looking for someone to blame. It happened in her home, during her party—so why not her?

"Bruce should've at least let her go to the funeral. You know how bad that looked."

"She could hardly stand up that day, let alone stop vomiting." Despite the howling wind that tugged on her ears, Dick's ragged sigh seemed louder. _Always worried about me, always trying to protect me, how long do they expect me to hide here? _She was sure sick of the place. Everything was gray. From here, sitting so high in the clouds, she could usually see the sun slowly setting fire to the darkness, but now? Now even the sky was gray, promising to turn everything white with the coming snow.

Letting her cup settle in one hand, Del let her fingers fish through the soft downy of her pocket, feeling relief prick her numb skin as she let the daylight see the tiny piece of rolled paper. It was just a little strip that had been rolled into a tiny scroll; a scroll that had traveled from Tim's pocket to Dick's and had very quietly slipped into hers. By now the oils in her fingers had rendered it as soft as cloth, but she could still read the ink. _Still with you. _"Silly Bird." _So you're still in the rabbit hole with me?_

"Batgirl and Birdbrain are heroes and Delilah Wayne is the new social pariah. Irony's a bitch." Oh, she knew that voice, though it'd been a couple weeks since she heard it. She didn't even bother to twist her head, not when she could hear the gravel crunching under his boots.

"Where've _you_ been?" She asked, tilting her head to see if she could still hear the voices rising from the penthouse. Rolling the little paper back up, she let it slide right back into the safety of her pocket as his cold shadow came to linger over her.

"Miss me?" There was no mistaking that devilish face and the soft white hairs that stuck out from that raven colored mop of hair. At least he looked like he was in better shape this time. "I've been _around_." He answered at last, letting a bit of smirk peek out the corner of his wiry lips—almost like a child who'd been up to no good.

"What are you doing here Jase?"

"I was just dropping by." _Yeah…right. _But Del simply folded her bottom lip behind her teeth as he eased himself down beside her. "Checking on you."

"How'd you know I'd be up here?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at him when he reached over and snagged her coffee cup to take a big swig.

Jason could feel his face creasing as he stared into the cup. "Like a little coffee with your cream and sugar?" The second she reached for it, he yanked it back. "You're always up here." He said, taking another sip. "You're up by four, you run the stairs and you sit up here until the sun's in the sky. Have been for the last week and half." He could see that dubious face staring at him from over the rim of the mug as he took another swallow. "Disgusting."

"You've…been _watching me_? Oh my god! You freak!"

"Just watching your back."

"I have a stalker. That's just great." The girl groaned, letting her head slip into her hands. "I don't…I don't need anyone protecting me. I don't need anyone checking up on me. I don't need to be babied!" She cried, snatching her half empty cup away from him. "My coffee." She said with a growl as she took a sip. It was just two sugars and a splash of half and half. What the hell did he know?

"Don't get your panties in a bunch." Jason muttered. "It's not like I'm clipping your picture out of magazines and tacking them to my wall." Damn, she looked so mad. "You're not that hot." He added stealing the warm cup out her hands just as she balled her fist and put it in his arm. "Hey! Don't make me spill the coffee!"

"Asshole."

"Better to be an asshole than a whole ass."

"You'd know." She grumbled, not bothering to keep an eye on him now that he was all but draining her cup. She let her eyes slide back to the skyline, aware that it wasn't the same shade of gray it was before. _Make no mistake, Del. This city is going to do everything it can to keep you on your knees._ No kidding. Feeling the wet patches of her sweatshirt start to cling to her skin, Del tucked her knees under her chin, trying to stave off the violent shuddering of her muscles when she felt a pair of arms snaking around her. "Let go!" But his arms only seemed to grip her tighter, pulling her until her back had sunk into his jacket, until she could feel his chest rising just behind her spine. She wanted to rip away from him. She wanted to put her fist right in his face, and yet…he was warm._ This isn't…this isn't...God, why does he do this?_

"No. You're shivering, you knucklehead." He murmured, feeling the girl flinch in his arms as his breath rose to the sky in in puffs of mist. Even now he could see her teeth stabbing into her lip. What are you biting back? "What's wrong with Gotham's new pariah?" He asked, pressing his chin on the top of her head.

"Why'd you kiss me?" Maybe it was best she couldn't see him smirking. Maybe it was best she couldn't see his deviously dark eyes. After all, all it took for the chills to roll down her spine was the feel of his breath on her ear.

"Because I wanted to." It was simple as that. He'd told her as much, right? How many ways can a person misinterpret the words, 'I kinda want to kiss you right now'. It's not like that nagging little desire ever went away. "You don't find yourself thinking about it all the time do you?" He asked, feeling the fragile body in his arms grow utterly still. Hell, she wasn't even taking a breath. So… that was a 'Yes'. "You need a new hobby."

"You're such a jerk."

"Well, if that boy toy of yours would kiss you like he's supposed to, you wouldn't be fantasizing about little ol' me." He went on, feeling his lips break into a grin when her bony elbow shot into his ribs. He made sure to grab that part of her body…those things weren't exactly done healing. "Look, I'd like nothing more than to bite that lip for you," He whispered, watching her wind bitten face grow red. "But I don't have enough time for that. So I'll promise you this, I won't kiss you anymore." He said, letting an arm fall from her as he dug around in his pocket. The second he dropped the small burn phone in her lap, Delilah just stared at it. "Unless you ask me to. Though I'd prefer it if you begged a little." Jason said as he let his hold slide from the girl before he worked himself to his feet.

She didn't return his smile, she just stared at him, anger confusion, embarrassment. It was all there on her face wrapped up in a wide eyed glassy stare. Kinda cute really-like a puppy or something. "I have something to look into, no thanks to you. So I won't be able to watch your back like I have been."

"What kind of something?"

Jason wagged his finger at her. "Uh uh. Remember what happened the last time we worked on something together? You got me shot."

"You got yourself shot." She spat, slapping at his hand as his lanky form crouched down in front of her, snatching her face into his cold rough palms. "And as I recall, _you_ shot me first. So... serves you right." But as her venomous words slipped off her tongue, it only seemed to make him smile. "What are you up to—really?"

"Classified." Before her lungs could snatch at the air, she could feel his breath skirt across her cheeks. Still warm—and vaguely smelling like coffee. "Hell, you might even be proud of me by the time it's over." Whatever she'd cleverly planned fell to the wayside as the ache of his words burned into her chest. _Jason… _"So, I'd appreciate it if you didn't go off and get yourself killed." Feeling the warmth of a hand slip from her cheek, Delilah let her gaze slip down to her lap, aware that he was shoving the phone in her pocket. "Call and I'll come."

"Jase…"

"Stop looking at me like that. It's not like I'm going to get myself killed."

"Better not! You still owe me!"

At her words, Jason tilted his head to the sky, letting something sound like a curse hiss out. "Bitchy, boobless socialite." Even in the shadow of his own head, he could see her pale blue eyes going wide as he bent down to crush that plush bottom lip with his own. The taste of coffee and sugary chap stick was well worth the feel of her fingers clawing at his chest-the feel of her collapsing into the gravel. The second she opened her mouth wider, he was more than ready to show her just what she'd been missing, and yet he hadn't felt her take a breath either. He let her free, trying not to revel too much in the sound of her ragged gasps. "You said-"

"I lied."

* * *

She wasn't sure how long she sat there staring at the shards of the fallen coffee cup as the city woke below her, bellowing out in squealing breakings and blaring horns. If she was still enough, if she was quiet enough, maybe she could still hear that voice in her ear.

"_You alright, Del?" _

"No. But I will be."

"_Anything broken?" _

"Not anymore."

"_Alright then, get back up and dust yourself off."_

"Okay." By now her own legs were numb; she couldn't feel the gravel digging into her as she staggered to her feet. The warmth of the penthouse felt like fire to her skin as the girl sank down the steps, letting those familiar voices reach out to her.

"Bruce, c'mon, what else can we do? There's got to be something—"

"Lie low. It'll blow over. I've seen to it that she gives interviews to the right sources. It's going to ripple, we knew that."

"Alfred?" Her voice felt like a squeak, and somehow it had summoned the attention of everyone at the table. "My school uniform, you didn't happen to pack that did you?"

"Y-yes, Miss, but surely you need more time-"

"_No_." The word rushed from her louder than anticipated, forcing even Damian to lift his gaze from his breakfast. Realizing that everyone was staring, including her father, she marched her way to the waste bin, trying to ignore the tinkling sound of porcelain as the shards trembled in her hands. "No…" She said softer. "No more hiding. No more _laying low_. I need to get back to my routine. I need to show them I can and will bounce back."

"How far did you make it today?" Her father asked suddenly prying her gaze off of the old butler's back as he slipped from the kitchen.

"Three fourth of the way." _Almost. Almost there._

"Alfred?"

Alfred Pennyworth paused at the mouth of the small dark hall, barely twisting his head toward Bruce's call. "Yes, Sir?"

"Set out Damian's as well."

"Yes, Master Bruce." The tension could have burst like a bubble, and yet all Del could manage to do was stare at the man, more than aware that Dick was but choking on his coffee.

"The League of Assassins has taught me everything I need to know!" The boy spat, filling the space with the sound of his hands coming down on the table. Bruce Wayne however, didn't as much as flinch as he turned toward the coffee pot.

"If they had, you wouldn't be _here_." He said dryly, letting his eyes settle on the kid over the rim of his cup. His daughter was still mauling on her lip, when the boy shoved his way from the table, leaving plates and chairs in his wake.

"Hey!"

"Shut it, Grayson!"

As the breath finally slid from her lungs, Del could feel her teeth letting her captive lip free. She turned for the cabinet and fresh cup. "You're making him go…because of me." She said softly as she made a reach for the coffee pot. "I don't need to be-"

"Yes you do." He muttered into his cup as he lifted his weight from the counter knowing full well that his words were finite enough to stop her argument.

"He certainly-"

"You know just as well as anyone that it's not about his intellectual abilities." Bruce said, letting his gaze drift to the girl "You didn't start attending that school for yours."

"But it's different, Dad." Del shot out, catching Dick's wincing reflection in the sheen of the refrigerator. "I wanted to socialize, I wanted to be around people my own age—but Damian doesn't want that."

"It's not about what he wants."

" I don't need my _sister_ fighting _my_ battles!"

"And what about the champagne?" Dick asked suddenly, forcing the rising voices to still. "Or did you guys forget that there's a couple of bottles out there that could poison someone else?" He asked, waving the newspaper as if it were a flag of surrender. "Four more people are dead because of the tampering. And the three of you want to stand there bickering? Who has time for that? Whoever took those bottles doesn't."

* * *

Stepping through the doors of Gotham Prep, Delilah could hear nothing more than the bat and bird on her boots clinking together with her steps. This was how you silenced a room. This was how you know…everyone was talking about you. _It's not like I can't hear you whispering. It's not like I can't see you hiding your lips behind your hands. _"This way, Master Damian." Hearing Alfred's voice, Del forced herself to take a breath, reminding herself of Damian's presence as the man lead the way to the office. Maybe it was the boy that had them staring, but a few steps down that hall alone, the thought all but dissipated.

"I can't believe she'd come here after…"

"…A lot of damn nerve…"

"Selfish Bitch, it's her fault Carlotta was hurt…"

_They want someone to blame. They want someone to feel their fear. Just keep going. Just- _Spaying Sam standing by her locker, Del couldn't help but let her jaws clench into her cheek. "Del…" The girl slowly let her arm fall from the metal surface, the paper towels in her hands were as red as her fingers, and yet no matter what Sam had done, she couldn't remove the blemish there.

"Move."

"Wait-"

"Del." She hadn't know he was there, she hadn't heard his footsteps, she didn't see his shadow. But the second she felt Tim's hand snatch her back by the strap on her messenger bag, she twisted, all but slamming against his chest. _Even you're trying to protect me. Let me go, Tim. Just let me go._

"Hiding it isn't going to make it go away." She hissed through her clenched teeth. "Let me see." She snapped, wringing herself away from the lanky boy and snaking toward the locker all at once. And yet, the moment she could see that red dripping paint on her locker, her muscles felt as though they'd gone completely slack. **Murderer…**

_Does it have to be red? They weren't the ones on the floor, they couldn't hear the blood gurgling in the back of Doc's throat. There's no way they could hear it over their own crying. Their noses didn't burn with the smell of gunpowder, they didn't see didn't see the terrified eyes of a man who knew he was dying…_

* * *

"Who's the kid? What the fuck is he doing here?"

"Aw, he so cute I wanna pinch his cheeks!"

"You're not lost are you, Little Boy?"

"Yeah, the middle school is on the other end of campus."

"_Tch_." Delilah _wanted_ to socialize with these ingrates? For what purpose? None of them were even worth the effort to converse with! Yes, she was an idiot, but even her intellectual capabilities surpassed what he found here. But with these ridiculous faces peering in on him, the boy offered more than a sigh of exasperation as he worked his feet onto the desk, watching the classroom fill a few at time. "Im circumdederunt stultis ." The blank stares only made the boy roll his eyes. Wasn't this class based on Latin?

"What did he just say?"

This was going to be a very long day, he decided, blocking out the murmur of idle chatter as he set his gaze on the window. A gray world, darker than a clear sky, and yet not quiet dark enough. Only when a cookie was shoved in front of his face did he strip his eyes from the bare trees. "_Quidem_." _Indeed. _Lifting his scornful face up, he said not another word as he all but snatched the cookie from Sam's hand. Hell, it was still warm; the chocolate chips were probably still gooey. It'd be impractical to let it go to waste.

"Hey, Cleary, what does...Cirum- what the hell did you say?"

"Circumdederunt stultis?" The inflection in her voice could almost make him smirk. "Roughly, I'm surrounded by fools." At a glance he could see the girl sinking down into her seat a few chairs across from him, he wasn't especially worried about the flushed stares or blank faces. He was more interested in the small parchment paper bag on Samantha Cleary's desk.

"You know this kid?" Someone asked, the boy didn't bother to even look; he just reached across the aisle toward Sam's desk, until someone's annoyingly large shadow pushed over his personal space. Damian et the wandering limb drop as he sat up to face the blonde haired boy.

"Yo, what's your name, Punk?"

"How is my name any business of yours?"

"I'd like to know the name of the little shit in my seat."

In the soft reflections of the window beside him, Damian could see Sam shoulder's slumping, as if she were preparing to duck for cover—at least she was learning. "Oh? This is your seat is it?" He asked, half watching the people who were still filing into the classroom. What the hell was taking that thing so long? "Not anymore."

Feeling the guy's fingers grip into his shirt, the boy let his own fingers curl around the first object they could find. "You wanna bet, you little asshole?!" The room was watching…but who would be close enough to hear him? The second his fingers fisted into the blonde's shirt he watched the boy's eyes grow large and fearful. _Yes, there's something sharp against your neck_.

"I bet I can move faster than you." The boy whispered, paying no mind to the stillness of the room that made the blonde's swallowing seem so loud, surely he could feel that little rivulet of blood rolling down his neck. "It's mine now." With that he shoved at him, letting the knife slide down his sleeve before anyone caught on.

"I'll just let you have it, Shorty, I'm feeling generous." But Damian said nothing as he worked his feet back over the desk. He was still half watching the guy move across the room and half settling his head behind his folded hands, when he spotted Sam's hand out of the corner of his eye.

"That deserves another cookie." But as the boy reached back to accept he saw nothing but red marring her hands. Just what had he missed? He could feel his mouth falling open when the crowing of idiots stole his silence.

"The Ice Queen cometh!"

She looked pale, but her eyes were hard. To her credit, she didn't even give the ingrates a glance. She stood up for them. She faced the clown for these fools. What good did it do her?

"Ice Queen, hell more like '_She's a killer queen, gunpowder and geletine-_"

"Guaranteed to blow your mind, right?"

"Aw, you're skipping lines!"

"Oh, she'll blow your mind alright. All over the floor I bet."

Even from his spot, he could see his sister's spine straightening as her books all but slammed on her desk a couple rows away. You're letting them get to you. You're letting these peons….

"It was his heart. Not his head. But how would you know? " The sudden voice made the boy lift his chin as Timothy Drake worked his way down the row. "You weren't even there." In silence he watched the young man as he worked his way down the same aisle, he even stopped to work his way around Delilah, but his eyes never once landed on her, and she never turned toward him.

"But a lot of us were." A dark haired boy said suddenly, breaking up the building silence. "And what about Carla-"

"Alright, alright, settle down." The room seemed to lull under the presence of a thin balding man. "Miss Wayne, so glad you could grace us with your presence." The man said dryly as he let his things settle on the large desk at the front of the room.

"Oh, I was just _dying_ to come back."

"Very funny, Miss Wayne." The man muttered, peering at her over a pair of glasses before scooping up the paperwork on his desk. "Looks like we have a new student…" The man said slowly.

Strange, from here, he looked like an insect. _Insects are easily squashed._ Damian could see the man lifting his head to gaze at him, and then he put his eyes back on the paperwork. "Damian…Wayne?" The man let his arm slide to his side as if the of his paper were weighting it down. "Are you sure a highschool Latin class is a good fit for you? You could hardly be ten years old." He asked with a sigh. "And please get your feet off the desk."

Glancing at Del, he could see that knowing look crawling across her face as he let his feet slide to the floor. "It's not." He said simply, watching the old thing blink his big bug eyes. "I'm only here because I must be, there's nothing you could possibly teach me." With the classroom all but erupting around him, the boy simply leaned back with an outstretched hand, making sure to snap his fingers.

"You're gonna make me run out of cookies."

* * *

_Look up, C'mon, Del, look up. _But just as he thought she might lift up her gaze, someone sat across from him. "You're still doing it…" At the sound of the soft words, Tim could only sit up to shake off he daze. He knew those big dark eyes, and somewhere, somewhere under the fabric burn mask there were tendrils of that soft yellow hair.

"Doing what?"

"Watching her." Carlotta said with a sigh. "They all do really." With her words the girl twisted in her seat, letting them both watch as Pike approached the table. Any other time, Tim may have laughed at Damian's sour face, but then, as he watched the guy seat himself so casually on the table top beside Del, he found himself hoping that the demon child was getting ready to stab him with his fork. "…he's no exception."

"Wait a minute… you and Pike are-"

"Not anymore." One of the girl's beside him supplied. "It's sick really. Watching him fawn on her after what she did."

"Didn't she even stop at your house or something Carla?" But the girl was too busy watching Pike try to smooth things over, forcing the girl to cup her mouth as a laugh tried to spill out. "This is so revolting, I can't even watch it." The girls at the table may have turned away, screwing their faces in disgust, but there was Carla…still watching.

"Caro." Tim wasn't sure what made the girl peel her eyes away-his hand reaching out to hers or the sound of her old nickname falling out of his mouth. Damn, he hadn't called her that in years.

"You haven't called me that since elementary school." The girl murmured. "Tell me, Timmy, why her? What's so damned remarkable about her? Why does he…"

"It's her name."

"And you? What is it about her that makes you watch her the way you do?"

"Something entirely different."

"She did stop by my house…" Carlotta said suddenly, peering over her shoulder once more. "I-I couldn't. I didn't want to hear her. I know she was just contacting everyone just to make herself look good. I don't think she's really that sorry. First my friend then my face…now my boyfriend."

"She never stole me from you." Tim scoffed. "You dropped me the moment Drake Industries went under." When the girl tried to tug her hand away, he kept it, leaning in despite the silence that was rolling across the table. "You and I stopped being friends long ago. I didn't make that choice. You did."

"You left!"

"You weren't the only one who was in and out of boarding schools."

"Timmy, stop it, you're being mean." Carlotta whined, her long dark lashes seemed to be fluttering, trying to keep that sheen at bay.

"No I'm not. Truth hurts. As for your face, a sick, twisted man did that to you. You honestly think she wanted anyone to go through that? That she wanted that to happen in her own home? Yes, she contacted everyone after the party. But out of everyone in this school, you're the only one she went to visit personally."

"Tim-"

But as the boy held up his free hand, the words died there on her lips. "You're boyfriend? He's just a prick. The world's full of pricks and bitches Caro. You should know that by now." He said letting her hand free. "Because you're being one." With that the boy pushed himself away from the table, aware of all the wide eyes and hanging mouths that were sitting around him.

"YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE, TIMOTHY DRAKE!"

* * *

Hearing that name yell across the cafeteria, she felt compelled to look up. Even Pike twisted his head to watch the girl in the pale blue burn mask bolt from the table with a flurry of skirts chasing after her.

"Aren't you going to go after her?" Del wanted to know, half watching them flee down the hall and half watching Tim's back as he hit the outside door, flooding the space with that pale winter light.

"No. Now she just looks like the monster that she actually is." Pike murmured, as he rubbed his thumb over his lip. "Look, I just wanted to say that I appreciated the phone call afterwards…you know? I think that blew my parents away." He said sliding off the table, watching the girl as she focused her eyes on that lanky shadow just outside. "Hey…are you doing anything for New Years?"

"No…" She said slowly, letting the sound of his voice drag her gaze back to him. "I'm almost afraid to ask why." No sooner had the words started to slip out of her did a not so subtle smirk begin to wind around Pike's long mouth as he pulled an envelope from his pocket.

"Well, my parents are doing the whole cruise thing—they'll be gone. So there's going to be a bash at my place."

"Somehow I don't think I'd be that welcome-"

"Since when did you care what everyone else thought? Hell, bring Cleary, it might be an eye opening experience for her—bring whoever you want, but leave the little brother at home." With a wink, Pike strolled away, leaving Delilah Wayne with that thin gold envelope. But no sooner did she stash it away, did the teen shove herself from the table.

"On that note, I need to go wash this bitter taste out of my mouth."

* * *

_It's just an act. You're doing what you have to._ Her own father wasn't above using disguises and aliases—he wasn't above living in those white lies. What the world knew of Bruce Wayne had been carved out of them. It's just the nature of the beast. And yet somehow these little dishonest things left her mouth bitter and her soul feeling slightly cheaper than before.

Sliding into the girl's bathroom, she all but crumbled against the door, forcing her unwilling chest to rise. Pike's New Year's Eve party. No parents. That meant only one thing—booze and copious amounts of it. No, the fingerprints found on the crates didn't come back as a match, but that only checked those who had a reason to be fingerprinted in the first place. If Pike didn't have the stolen champagne bottles himself, someone would bring them. _If we don't get our hands on them first…people are going to die._

Staggering her way to the sink, Del could have winced at the sound of her charms clinking and clanking as they battled together, but the moment she cupped her hands under that icy water and splashed it in her face, she heard something much different. You forgot the cardinal rule—always be aware of your surroundings. By the soft sound of sniffles, the girl knew she wasn't alone. _What do I do? Do I ask them if they're okay? _The idea of being caught crying in public, let alone in a bathroom was humiliating.

Biting her cheek as she agonized over what to do, Del reached for a towel, more than aware that the stall door behind her was coming open. The second the teen glanced up, she saw those big dark eyes peeking out from behind that fabric mask. Carlotta immediately ducked her head as she wandered to the open sink.

"You okay?"

The girl beside her seemed to shudder as if the words were abrasive. "Do I look okay to you?! Do I Wayne?!" She cried, wincing under the weight of her own echo. "I can't look at my own reflection, my mother refuses to…my own father? He couldn't look at my face without vomiting." Carlotta whispered, letting her fingers curl into the edges of the sink as the door behind them creaked open. "And the way Pike looks at me…"

Somehow Carlotta's words made her want to hug her arms to her chest_. _And while she could hear that voice telling her that the girl deserved it, Del couldn't stop herself from wondering, _What would I do if I couldn't hide my scars? _

But as Delilah felt her arms crushing down on her own chest as she stood there trying so desperately to find the right words her ears were training in on the sound of shoes crossing the threshold—lots of shoes. The teen hardly took a glance in the mirror at all the stoic faces at her back before she felt the weight of something hard and heavy smacking into her head. Stunned, her body only lurched forward, forcing her to smack into the mirror in front of her. But as the glass began to crack beneath her cheek, she could only focus on those bitter words. "This is for Carla, you bitch."

_There's so many. _The thought came instantly as the girl twisted around, trying to ignore the dull ache that was throbbing through her head or the feel of the blood rolling down her cheek. Carlotta Van Helton made not a sound; she just stood there, still as a stone staring as if she were watching a tragic accident that she just couldn't bring herself to look away from. The second, Delilah felt someone's ringed fingers fist in her hair, she forced herself to breath, as she cocked her fist. "Walk away." When the taller girl made no such move, she swung, not caring that she could feel the rings catching in her hair as the girl's head went back.

But as her assailant staggered back cupping her bloodied mouth, Del found herself facing grim odds. This wasn't just a fight between girls _Seven to one? This is gonna hurt._ As the largest boy among them came at her brandishing the back end of his lacrosse stick, the girl twisted, deflecting the blow to the side of her body so she could wrap her hands around his weapon. The second her fingers were coiled tightly enough, she kicked, putting her boot into his gut. Only when he seemed to be crumbling did they all come rushing, punching, kicking-tearing at her like wild animals on a kill that was still fighting to live. For a brief the girl could've believed she'd come out on top, if not for the sole of a boot that took the very breath out of her lungs.

* * *

"If you're that worried about her-"

"Don't be ridiculous." The boy sneered, peeling his eyes off the clock. "I just don't see what she's sulking about." He added, winning nothing from Sam but a shake of her head.

"Whatever." The girl sighed, letting her gaze return to her book. "If you don't understand…then why don't you ask?"

"_Tch_." The girl didn't even lift her head as he pushed himself from his chair. "It was a rhetorical statement."

"So…where are you off to?"

"How's that any of your business?"

"It's not, I was just curious." She said, watching him sling that blue blazer over his arm as he twisted his face at her. "It's normal you know—not liking it when someone other than you gives your sister shit. It's a part of the sibling thing. It's okay for _you_ to call her names, push her buttons and pick fights with her- it's not okay for someone else to do it, because if someone else does it, they're overstepping their bounds. " She gave the kid a smirk. "If you ask me, anyone dumb enough to do that is just asking for a beating." Without another word the boy ducked for the hall.

"I wasn't asking."

This place, this place was strange. In the hours that lead up to this, he saw nothing more than a rift. There were those who openly thanked his sister for her idiotic bravery. But of course, there were those who damned her too—blamed her for the deeds of someone else's hand as if she herself had brought chaos into their lives. Were they really that blind? Had these pathetic children never tasted the world's bitterness? Had they never seen death so closely before? _She and father are even more alike now. _The thought had the boy clenching his jaw as he slammed into the girl's bathroom door. _That's it! I'm kicking her ass! I'll show her where her place is!_

* * *

"Hold her down!"

"God Damn, she's squirmy."

Feeling the toe of someone's boot smashing into her ribs, Delilah found herself sinking to the floor. Hell she couldn't even feel the grooves of the tile digging into her knees. She was too busy trying to pull herself from all the hands that were tugging on her, and yet, she felt her body bending to the floor. _What's that wheezing sound?_

"Not so pretty now, are you _Delilah_?" Swallowing the blood she could feel welling at the back of her throat, Del could only stare up at the faces that were crouching around her. The heavy weight on top of her was all but keeping her from breathing. _That sound…it's me. _

"You got the acid or not?!"

"Yeah, wasn't easy getting it out of the chemistry lab."

_My arms are above my head. There are multiple people sitting on my body. How the fuck can I get out of this one? _Half watching one of the girls lift a small tube from her bag, Del could hear nothing more but her heart humming in her ears, as she forced herself to try and tug free. "So should we scar her pretty face or something else?"

"I say we do the entire body." It wasn't the words, any more than the feel of someone's hands pushing her blazer back. _No! No! STOP!_ But the girl could only close her eyes as she withered and tugged there on the floor, listening to the sound of buttons as they popped from her blouse. Suddenly the air was touching her, making her go rigid under the collective gasp. _They can see everything…_

"Jesus Christ."

"Fuck. You're pretty until you take your shirt off."

"What's with all the scars?"

"God that's so gross."

As Del let her head fall to the floor, forcing her jaws to clench together, she could see Carla just standing there, staring down at her with her big dark eyes shimmering beneath that burn mask. But the girl only looked away, just as that tube was lifted above the air. "Well I guess her face will just have to match."

But just as Delilah began to brace herself for the feel of acid eating away at her skin, the door slammed open. The second the room went still was all the time she needed to lean up and plant her head into the guy who was all but pressing his weight down on her. She didn't need to look over him to know. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" _Damian._

Feeling the weight on her body shift in their surprise, Delilah used her captor's weakened lapse of judgement to pull herself off the floor enough to bash her head into the boy closest to her. The second his weight tilted, the tube slipped from girl's hand, giving Del nothing more than a space of a breath to rip her arms free and roll to her side before just as the tube burst on the floor.

A part of her wanted to rush to close her shirt, and yet, the girl could only focus to getting to her feet, half watching the acid begin to eat its way through the tile and half watching Damian's round housing shadow as the bodies began to press in between them. But Delilah soon locked her eyes on the girl closet to her, letting her own arms react when the thing went to strike her with an open hand. Feeling her own fingers tighten around the girl's wrist, she waited for the girl to attack with her free hand, before twisting her arm into a block. By the time Delilah had released her first offending hand, she hand the girl by the scruff of her shirt and blazer, feeling her breath hiss out with every strike to the gut her knee made. No sooner had she shoved the girl into the wall did she feel someone's weight rushing into her side, it was enough to make her gasp for breath, and enough to make the floor come faster than she ever thought it would.

_Get up, you have to get up. _But maybe the action that seems so simple is much harder when you have someone planting their foot into your stomach. Biting back the vomit that was rolling up the back of her throat, Del forced herself to breathe, feeling her eyes tear out of necessity, when she heard the sound of the lacrosse stick whistling through the air. Glancing up, the girl could only see the red streams of blood flying through the air the moment that lacrosse stick hit him across the face. The boy's heavy body slid down to the floor, crawling under his hands and knees to get out from under Damian's shadow and the and his striking range.

_Breathe. Just breathe. _In the blur of her stinging eyes, she could see that blue masked girl sliding to the floor, cupping her hands over her mouth as if to force herself to keep her words_. Is she overwhelmed? Or she just afraid of Damian?_ At the thought of her vicious little brother, Del could feel his shadow lording over her. She expected a few things. His disdain, maybe a little smugness and a few insults—she wasn't expecting to feel his foot connect into her side, knocking a gasp from her.

"GET UP!" But as the girl only vomited there at his feet, the boy only kicked her harder. "UP!" he snarled, not even waiting for her to collect herself. "Are you my sister or aren't you?! GET UP!" The moment she felt that stick crack across the back of her shoulder, causing her own arms to shake, she thought to curse him—or at least beat him with that stick the second she could. "Who are they?! Who are _they_ to put _you _on the ground?! GET UP!" Even now, as Del worked her knees beneath her, she could still see a couple of girl's crouched in the corner of with horror on their faces. With a glance, she could see that stick coming down, and maybe it would've hit her in the face…if she hadn't reached for it first. "If you ever let someone get you to the ground like that again, I'll beat you within an inch of your life!"

"I'm going to shove that stick so far up your ass…" Everything tasted like blood, but shakily she was crawling back to her feet, more than aware that the adrenaline was forcing her muscles to spasm.

"Anyone else?!" Damian all but barked. Even with his voice echoing over the sound of the lacrosse stick spinning in his fingers, the sound scurrying feet sounded louder. "Boring." The boy grumbled, paying no mind to his sister's shuffling feet. "You look like shit." He said, watching her inspect the bloodied cut on her face in the cracked mirror. But in the corner of his eye he could still see that blue masked girl balled up against the wall. "You!" But no sooner had he pointed the stick at her, did Damian feel his sister grab his hand.

"Not her…"

* * *

"Jesus! They're couple of psychos!"

"I got the whole thing on camera too. Who knew she looked like that."

The cold had yet to pry itself away from him, he could still feel it melting in the warmth of hall, unlike his thoughts. Even now, they were still circling back to her, not even the cold could numb her from his mind. _I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad one… _"Delilah Wayne—dominated. About time someone put that bitch in her place." Somehow hearing the clipped words, Tim felt his steps growing shorter and shorter. But as the boy began to hear the sound of replay, he found himself all but charging toward the pair. "No crying, nothing. Like a robot."

"_Jesus Christ." _

"_Fuck. You're pretty until you take your shirt off." _

"_What's with all the scars?" _

"_God that's so gross."_

Catching a glance of the girl on the floor with her scarred flesh for the world to see, Tim felt his stomach drop to his feet. Before he could think any clearer, he reached in between the two and snatched at the phone, hurling it at the wall. "Drake, what the fuck man-"

But before the redhead could utter another word, Tim had him by the shirt and was shoving him into the wall beside the busted phone. _Leon…this kid's name is Leon. A follower—wants to be with the in-crowd. If I press hard enough he'll relent. _"Is that all you have?!"

"Y-yeah."

"Leave him alone, Drake. If you want to fight, I'll give you one." He didn't have to glance at the jock to know the guy was sliding off that letterman jacket. But Tim never bothered to look his way.

"Where is she?!"

"Bathroom. She got what she deserved." Balling his fist, Timothy Drake didn't hesitate to plant it in the kid's nose, making sure to smack the big guy behind him with the point of his elbow. Dropping Leon to the floor, he turned striking out with a kick, forcing his friend to stagger into the lockers across the hall.

"Yeah, and so did you." He said, swiping up the motherboard and SD card of the phone. He wasn't sure what he expected on the other side of the door, but he wasn't expecting to see so much blood, vomit or glass. And there, trying to hold her torn blouse closed as she washed the blood from her face—was Del.

"You're late, Drake." At the sound of Damian's dry words, Delilah all but froze, her fingers trembling as she tried to keep her blouse together.

Without another word, Tim let his bag slide to the floor. Tossing the components at the boy who was crouched on the floor, he hurriedly ripped away his jacket.

"Tim—it's…it's okay."

"No it's not!" He snapped, peeling his top layers down to his t-shirt. Only when he'd gotten his dress shirt free did he hold it out to her, trying not to let his eyes wander down those lines that marred her body. Only when her fingers clutched her shirt tighter did he realize he was staring. Turning away, he could hear the shreds of her blouse coming loose as she struggled to slip the shirt over her head.

"What's this?"

"Someone recorded the whole thing. Couldn't let that get out."

"Who knew you were capable of using common sense?"

Tim thought to roll his eyes, but stopped himself when he heard her voice. "Are you alright? It's okay, you can take my hand." Whirling on his heel, he could see Del stretching out her hand to Carlotta Van Helton.

"I-I-I didn't know…I didn't know."

"I know." She murmured, as she helped peel the girl to her feet. "It's not your style. You're more _Mean Girls_, less _Carrie_."

"I haven't decided if you deserve it or not." Carla said suddenly.

"I know that too."

"You're strange, did you know _that,_ Wayne?"

"You're just stating the obvious. Now get out."

The girl didn't even look up, she just rushed for the door, leaving Tim's eyes to take in the bloodied thing that was sagging in his shirt. "That looks pretty deep." Tim murmured, trying to mind his hands as he tilted her cheek toward him. "C'mon. I'll take you home." He murmured, throwing his jacket around her shoulders.

"What about—"

"It's been a while since I've skipped class. I'm due to miss a few."

Damian could only sneer at Tim's back as he followed them down the hall, watching their hands bump together, only for one of them to rip their hand away. _Stupid, both of them_.

* * *

_Suspended. It's not like Dad was that surprised._ Hell, he didn't even seem angry about it…until Damian gave him the SD card that Tim had confiscated. Wincing she could still hear the hum of those voices echoing through the hanger. She could still hear the sound of the buttons scattering on the floor. It almost felt shameful. And knowing that her father had watched every second of one of her worst moments…._Weak! You're weak! _And the way he just stared at that screen long after the clip had ended—the way he seemed to avoid looking at her. If it hadn't been for the darkness, Delilah was sure she'd be red in the face. "_I want their names—all of them_." He didn't raise his voice or say anything more, and in some ways, she wish he had. She knew how to handle his brooding and his tantrums…but this quiet rage? There was something terrifying about it.

The cold, the noise of the traffic, the bright glimmer of Gotham, none of it seemed to be able to untangle her thoughts. _He's never going to let you pick up the cowl again_. "God damn it!" Heaving her coffee cup at the door to the roof, the girl barely caught the sheen of someone's eyes as they ducked under the shrapnel.

"You missed."

"Wasn't aiming for you." She grumbled, watching Damian's dark form take shape as he inched closer with soundless feet. But what exactly did he have in his hands? "Shouldn't you be on patrol?" She asked with a sigh fleeing from her in a wispy cloud. Ah, she could see the lines of his face now.

"Stuck here no thanks to you." Oh, yeah, that was going to stop him. But as the boy stepped closer she began to see the form of the staffs in his hands, with just a glimpse at them, Damian was suddenly throwing one at her. No sooner did she feel the heavy thing smack into her hand, did she feel the point of Damian's weapon smack her on the stitched cheek. "What happened today is never going to happen again, you got that?" He snapped, stepping back into his stance. "You train with Father—you do as he says, but now you'll do as I say."

"So bossy." But as the girl took her stance, she could see his lips twitching just ever so slightly. It was kind of creepy really.

"I hear it's a family trait." The boy stated, forcing her to step back as he came at her with his first strike, but before she could move, he was dropping down and sweeping her legs out from under her, knocking her to the ground. He wasn't about to take it easy on her. "No one has the right to make you fall. No one but me." He told her, stepping back as she hopped to her feet.

But before the girl could lurch forward, someone grabbed her staff from behind, forcing her to dig her feet into the gravel to stop herself. "Your hands are too close together." _Dad! _ Even Damian rested his staff, curious as to what the man was up to, but the girl moved her hands. "This staff is a little heavy for you, but we'll make it work." He added, pushing her feet out with a nudge of his foot. With that he stepped out of the way. "Make him fall."

* * *

**A/N: **So technically Damian is the master thief of this chapter. The moments I was dreading didn't quiet make it, but it's coming. Next chapter -** Broken Birds **We'll get a peek at what Jason's up to. Tim fans may have a reason rejoice finally! (Maybe? We know how those two are.) And I'll have to put my foot down and do the dirty deeds. -.-


	29. Broken Birds: Part 1

I didn't want to let go of his hand. The darkness looked so strange here, awash with the flames of the fire eaters and the loudly colored attractions that filled the air with excited screams. Or maybe that was my imagination trying to keep the sound of terror at bay. It was strange half lit place and only the overly sweet smell of cotton candy and kettle corn could cover the raw odor of dusty canvas, oil and burning metal.

I felt so strange here, unsure about the painted faces and how they creased in the darkness with their red lipped smiles, and somehow I could only stare up in wonder at the stilted men who walked around us like we were nothing more than ants. I'm not afraid of the dark. Batman is the dark-Dad is the dark… But as I stood there clinging to Dick's arm with both hands, I realized this dimness was different—and my brother seemed so at ease in it. Had it not been for him, Dad never would've let me leave. I hadn't been out of that manor in so long…

I was torn, trapped in wonderment and yet sneakily suspicious of that feeling that was crawling up the back of my neck as I stared at the attraction in front of us, listening to the sound of feet pounding on metal steps. Funhouse. Right. But as I stared at giant clowns face, watching people pass through that wide open mouth it somehow didn't strike me as fun. "So what do you think, Squirt?" I found my teeth stabbing me in the lip. If I told him I was scared…he'd take me home. I didn't want to go home. This was the first time in a long time that Dick had been able to visit Haly's Circus. I didn't want to ruin it.

"Dicky?"

We both turned, eying the curvy shaped woman in the backdrop of those scattered lights. Dick Grayson was all but still as stone beside me. "Raya." The second he broke from me, I felt lost in this peculiar place as I watched Dick embrace the woman. It wasn't the first time he'd let me go to embrace or greet a familiar face. But somehow it only made me feel like a stranger in his world.

"Oh my god, it's been forever." The woman cried, her red hair seeming to glow like embers in the haze of lights that flickered through the darkness. I can only imagine what color Dick's face was when she pecked him on his scruffy cheek; lucky for him I can only see the back of his head. But this Raya can see me. "Who's this? She's not your—"

"Uh, No, no. She's Bruce's ward." Dick said quickly, half smiling as he held out a hand to me. "Delilah, c'mere, meet and old friend of mine." Ward. There's something heavy about that word. Heavy and cheapening all the same. It would take some time before I could finally understand why the four letter word rubbed me raw. I don't know what it is about Dick's empty hand, but it pulls me through the wet tuffs of grass like gravity, ever aware that the woman is watching me.

"Old? Who are you calling old, Richard Grayson?" There's something about that cheeky smile and the curl of his fingers that makes me feel safe again. It doesn't matter that the woman is crouching down to my height. "Delilah, well that's a pretty name."

"Thank you." The words tumble out all on their own as the woman's long slender fingers curl around mine, feeling somewhat cool in this humid air. She has a wide smile like Dick's, but it just doesn't reach her eyes.

"Were you about to go in the funhouse?" She asks, forcing me to glance back at the gaping clown. But one glance up at Dick and I can see him staring at her. Not even thirty seconds and he's smitten. Gah, he's hopeless. But the light chiding doesn't dispel the tension in the air, a weight I know all too well…especially when two people have a lot to say. Even though I'm swallowing, my head is nodding. I want to give them the space. Unlike Dad, Dick will actually speak up. But then…he almost seems surprised.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"Nope. I don't need ya." I say quickly as I pop up a few metal steps before he can say boo to a goose. "Behave." I call back, letting the sound of Raya's sultry laugh chase me up the wobbly stairs.

"I'll be right here." Somehow the words give me the will to duck through that cavernous mouth.

It's not the rollers beneath my feet my stomach all a flutter. Other children aren't batting an eye as the all but plow through the mist at their feet to climb up the rambling stairs or to stand in the spinning rooms. The pictures…the pictures of pointy toothed clowns peering through the darkness don't seem to bother them. But they bother me. I know what clowns can do. Clowns can make Batman bleed—and Robins die.

The ambient crowing of mad laughter forces me onward, up the twisting stairs and down the mirrored halls. I want to look at the floor to find my way through, but with the fog billowing around my feet I can't see a thing, so I force myself to travel the dead ends, trying not to mind as the walls drawn closer and closer in. But it almost makes it hard to breathe. But what's that sound? _Something's_ _moving_.

I don't know if it's the soft wheeze that's starting to flow out of my lungs, or something else, but by the time I feel that shadow loom over me, I can hear my heart hammering in my ears louder than any song that's booming out of the big top. I see the oversized shoes first, and for a moment I almost can't breathe at all as my gaze travels up to that red lipped face. I can hear his hearty laugh echoing through the halls, and yet nothing comes out of me. I only stare at him, stepping back with every step he takes forward. But the hall is narrowing with every step, soon I'm hitting my head on a mirrored ceiling as I try to make myself smaller and smaller. But then there was nothing behind me. Nothing beneath me. I was falling. I think I was too surprised to make a sound. The second I realized I landed in a ball pit, I knew what I had to do. I had to get out of there.

I never tried to claw my way out of a ball pit so fast in my short life. By the time I dropped over the side, my soft gasps where loud. _Your_ _heart's_ working _too_ _hard_. I don't know what made me glance up, but as I tilted my head back, I could see him sitting up there, smiling through that gap. The second he disappeared I was up on my feet, feeling the dread prick its way through me when I realized my pockets were empty. No inhaler. I had no choice but to move forward and crawl my way through the tubes before me. Slides. Slides were supposed to be fun…except I was suddenly worried about what would be there at the bottom. No sooner did my feet reach the ground, I ran for it, spilling to the ground when I hit one of those rooms with the spinning floors. For a long moment I just sat there, listening to the wheezing of my lungs over shadow the music just outside. Calm _down_. _Deep_ _breath_. _It's_ _okay_. Or it was until I felt that hand on my shoulder. I didn't scream or yelp, I just felt every muscle in my body jolt before I rolled, kicking out my leg and nailing the clown right in the nose with sole of my shoe.

Only then did I scramble across the revolving floor on my hands and knees to something more solid. I squeezed myself through the crooked rooms and slid down the slanted floors, feeling the panic nibble on the tips of my fingers. Only when I took a tumbled my way through the 'Barrel of fun' Did I feel someone's arms grip around me. Before I could even think to claw and kick my way out, I could feel the tip of my inhaler hitting my lip. "It's okay, Squirt. I've got'cha." I was still squeezing on the drum of my inhaler when he lifted me to his shoulders.

"How'd you know?"

"Oh… a wild guess—and maybe a clown with a bloody nose." He said as the night air began to wrap itself around us once more. "I figured that had to be your doing. We'll have to find him and apologize."

"I don't like clowns."

"I know."

"And I don't like tight spaces either."

"I know that too."

"Why's it called a funhouse when it's not fun? "

"That I don't know." Dick murmured, ducking a little so I wouldn't hit the flap of the tent. Just as I lifted my gaze, I could see that redheaded woman diving from one trapeze to another. She was good, but I knew Dick was better.

"She calls you 'Dicky', huh?"

"My parents used to call me 'Dickybird'. Short for that I guess. No one calls me that now." Any other time I might've laughed, but as he stood there in that tent, I couldn't help but wonder if it was the same one—the same one he'd lost his family in. I didn't ask.

"I guess I needed you after all…"

"That's alright, Squirt. It just means that you'll help me if I ever need you, deal?"

"That's a promise, Dickybird."

* * *

Leon Daniels, Ethan Craig, Carter Hagan, Marley Glozman, Haylee Carrera, Lydia Snyder and Colleen Roth—the seven. The minute Del put those names together, she could only wonder what her father would do with them. She never thought it would be this. Listening to the recording echo through the office, Del couldn't help but put her eyes elsewhere, her reflection in the large wooden table, the horrified faces of their parents, or just the pale gray wall of the mediation room. Anywhere was better than that screen. "Now you see why I've asked you here." The second she heard the screen turn off, Del felt her lungs ballooning in her chest, forcing a sigh to slither out under the sound of the gasps and scolding that followed.

"Ethan Craig! You apologize to her this instant!"

"I don't want his apology." She said suddenly, quelling the murmur with her simple words. "I don't want an apology from any of them. So please, Mrs. Craig, don't even waste your breath." Leaning back in her chair, she could only watch the woman close and open her mouth like a fish at the end of the table.

"Be reasonable, Young Lady!"

"Mr. Glozman, do I have to remind you of your daughter's part in this? If I'm not mistaken she's the one who brought them the acid in the first place." Bruce said lightly, but it was enough to make Mr. Glozman's face pale a few shades. "How is the old publishing house these days? Can't it stand on its own legs anymore?" With his threat hanging in the air, Del could see the realization flickering across their faces. Lawyers, publishers, industry leaders, and foundation chairs—every one of these families was tied to Wayne Enterprises in some form or another. Their children had targeted the wrong girl.

"Then how can we rectify this?"

"_You _can't." The words were falling out of her before she could stop them. They couldn't fix this. They couldn't take back her humiliation or her shame. They couldn't keep her big brother from watching that damned clip, or take that sallow look off his face. "Only they can." But no sooner had Del spoken did she hear Carter's laughter cutting over her.

"You've got to be kidding me. You ran right to your daddy like a bitch. What are you going to do when he's not around, huh?"

"What I heard is you got your ass handed to you by a ten year old." Dick interjected, letting a knowing smirk wind its way around the side of his mouth as he stretched his arms above him. "Like a bitch." But before anyone could open their mouth, Delilah was shoving herself out of her chair, letting her fingers dig in as she rooted herself to the table.

"If it were left up to me, the Hagan Group would be crawling on its hands and knees."

"Sounds familiar." Damian murmured, breaking his silence as he leaned back in his chair eyeing the boy. Oh, they knew just who had crawled out of that bathroom on _his_ hands and knees.

"Like a bitch? If it were up to me, not only would you precious angels be slapped with assault and battery charges, I'd cut every single one of your families loose!" She cried, not paying any mind to how badly her hands stung when she slammed them down on the table top. "Like a bitch…that's cute. My _daddy_ is the only buffer you've got!"

"Charges?!" Someone's mother cried. "Wait, must it come to that?!"

"Oh, calm down. She's bluffing. Sweetie, sit down and let the grownups hash this out. No need to be so melodramatic."

Del tilted her head to her father as he started to rise from his seat. "I was bluffing?"

"You always did have a flare for the dramatic." Bruce said evenly as he reached over to the intercom before him. "Send them in." Even as his request echoed through the room he could see the uncertainty begin to build across the table. "Dramatic…but brutally honest." He added as the door came open, letting the commissioner, and a few uniformed officers file into the room. "Commissioner Gordon."

"Mr. Wayne."

"You can't be serious, Wayne!" Mr. Craig roared, shoving himself from the table, but as the man tried to pry his son away, he found himself blocked off by the men in uniform.

"Very. Or did you forget it was an act of violent assault that your children committed?" He asked, vaguely aware of the sob that was shuddering from one of the girl's the second their Miranda Rights started to fall from the officer's lips.

"There has to be another way!"

But Bruce Wayne didn't turn back to the table of frantic parents and their terrified children. He turned instead to that surprised sixteen year old girl who was still standing there at the head of the table. "Del?"

The girl just shook her head. "No." _No other way but forward, there's no going back from this. If I don't stick up for myself, if I let them slide- _"There is no other way." She said lifting her chin. "I do have some suggestions to keep them spending their time in juvenile hall." Del uttered, watching the relief flood a few faces. "I'm not dropping the charges. I can't and won't forget what they've done. Everything their criminal record comes up, I hope they think of me." She said, fighting back the surprise she felt when Clark Kent eased himself through the door with his notepad and recorder clutched in his hand. "I'm a grudge holder, I guess." She said with a shrug.

"I've already seen to it that our transactions with you are already up to date because from this very moment, Wayne Enterprises no longer finds any of your services nessicary. Continuing this strain would only be bad for business on all sides."

"Over something our children caused?! This isn't even related to our business relationship!"

"Your children are your future as mine are the future to Wayne Enterprises. It'll be up to them if they want to continue to bear their grudges in the future, but for now, this chapter is over." With that he turned to Clark. "Kent, good to see you. Del will just be another moment or two."

"You're going to publish this?! You can't do that!"

But before Bruce could even think to retort, Gordon spoke. "All charges are open to public record for any individual over the age of fourteen in the city of Gotham. I assure you he can."

As the room began to empty of handcuffed teens and flustered faces, Del let herself sink back into her chair. Her father had gone along with her plan and then some. And yet coming from her it felt like nothing but vengeance. Vengeance. Justice. When did the two become so similar?

* * *

The second she felt a glove graze her head, Del knew she was in trouble, no weak attempt to put up her guard was going to stop that coming blow that hit her in the gut. It was enough to drop her to the mat, coughing and sputtering as she tumbled backwards to her feet under her father's looming shadow. But the second the girl sprung back to her feet she could see those pale blue eyes scrutinizing her from the shadows of the dim room. "Where's your head?"

"Not here." She groaned out as she scooted back, aware of the slender beams of sunlight that had made it through the narrow openings in the dark window coverings. They almost felt warm under her feet. But as her father took his stance the girl did the same, forcing herself to take a long silent breath.

"Get it here." _You can't let your concentration break out there. Not even for a second. That's when mistakes are made. Mistakes will burn you. Mistakes will get you killed_. But the words never left his lips, no matter how she found herself waiting on them. Instead, he struck out at her with a knee. As soon as Del went to block it with her arms, he jabbed her again. "Watch what you're leaving open." He said, throwing up his gloves the second she spun back with a kick.

Just as they broke apart, Del could see the bits of sunlight flickering across her father's face as he shook his head. "What's got you so preoccupied?" He snarled, watching her shake out her hands.

"I don't know..." She said breathily, as she came at him swinging, filling the room with the sound of gloves beating on gloves. "I don't know if having them spend their community service in a burn unit and Gotham's anti-bullying program is going to be enough." She said at last, more than aware that her father was leaving his stomach unguarded when he put up his hands to deflect her upper attacks. "There's a part of me that thinks they're not going to learn anything from it. That it won't matter." The moment she took her shot for the unguarded spot, his arm came down on her, locking her in a choke hold, and even as she deflected his feet with her own, he still threw her to the mat. "Shit."

"I left that open on purpose." Crouched down beside her, he wiped at the sweat on his brow with his wrist. "Always have a plan, even if things don't work out exactly as you think they will." He added smacking her in the stomach, forcing her to roll over to her knees. "It may not make a difference to all of them." He said at last as they both rose to their feet. "But if it makes a difference for one of them—it's a start."

"And if they all walk away from it with nothing?"

"They'll be back to their old antics and we'll do it all over again. And we'll keep doing it until we find a way to break the cycle. It's not like they can be found innocent of their charges, not with that video-"

"Don't tell me! Please tell me you didn't let them put that in the evidence locker! C'mon! It's the GCPD, someone would sell it the second-"

"I gave it to Gordon and Gordon only." He said evenly, watching her block his fist as he swung at her. "And he turned around and gave it to Barbra for safe keeping." Watching her duck under his kick, he could feel his lips tugging at the corner of his mouth as she came at him again. _There she is._

"It's kind of blurry, isn't it?" She asked, her voice almost swallowed whole by the swatting of gloves and the tap of the mat. "The line between vengeance and justice, I mean." The question only seemed to earn him an elbow to the chest, but as the man kicked her back, he could hear her still. "It wasn't about the pain." She said with a grunt as she worked to block his coming blows, alternating between her hands and her feet. "What I really wanted to do was humiliate them." The words spat out as she leapt up to avoid his sweeping kick, forcing herself to twist into a back handspring to miss the next hit and put some needed space between them. "It's not like I haven't been hit before, it's just the way they made me feel…"

"Vulnerable and ashamed of it." The man rasped out. As Bruce ripped off his gloves, he could see those neat little brows arching together. He knew, he knew what it was that bothered her most, what brought her shame. The boys wore their scars like badges, good and bad alike, but for Del, they'd always been a sore kind of secret. Having them revealed had paralyzed her. "Did your mother ever tell you why she chose your name?" The words seemed to make every muscle in her body go slack.

"No…" She whispered. "Talia told me what it meant, but Mom never…she never told me why she chose it. It means 'delicate' or 'weak', I guess since she knew about-"

"To _make_ weak." He said suddenly tossing his gloves to the mat. "She knew your body would be delicate, but she made sure to instill a will in you that weakens others." Yanking her by the front of her shirt, he could see her eyes going wide in the slender streaks of dying light. "You have clawed your way up more times than those little shits ever will!" He sneered. "You froze! You let their perceptions of you stop you from fighting back! You gave them the power to make _you_ weak! And that isn't what your mother named you for!" Hearing his own voice echo through the space, Bruce forced himself to take a breath. "Not everyone who sees those marks is going to understand the hell you've been through." He said, minding his volume as he released her from his grip. "I'm not saying you should be proud of them. But you should at least acknowledge the strength it took to overcome what left those marks on you. Don't let anyone take that from you with shallow words. Is that understood?" He asked, waiting for a soundless nod before he turned to retrieve the fallen gloves.

"Yes. The line does get blurry at times." He said at last, forcing the girl to stare at his back as he eyed the ceiling. It wasn't like she hadn't spoken so pointedly with him before. "But you chose how they spent their time, not for your own satisfaction but for the sake of other people they might encounter." He said as he turned back toward her. "That's not vengeance."

"And cutting off their families?"

"If you had made the cuts-_that_ would have been vengeance."

"But you did exactly-"

"For business. It wouldn't have done us any good to continue on with them after their children were charged with assault on an heiress of Wayne Enterprises."

"And the paper?" She asked, watching a bit of smirk curl around the edge of his mouth as she peeled off her gloves.

"Karma." He said simply, ignoring that silly little smile- as if she could see right through him. "If you're just going to stand there, go run the stairs." He told her, pointing to the open door. Like any typical teenager, the girl rolled her eyes and muttered to the ceiling but she went just the same. And yet the thing made him pause when she stilled just outside the door. She didn't turn around, she just stood there.

"Karma...sure Dad, we'll go with that."

A part of him wondered if her shadow could see the faint smirk on his lips, but the man just shook his head as he made his way to the racks. Did she honestly think the father in him would let them get away with what they'd done to her? Like hell. This was far from over.

* * *

"_Why didn't you tell me?!" _

"_Because I didn't think you had the strength to bear it! I don't think you understand! I don't think you ever understood-" _

"_I understand that that my son is throwing his life away! You think this city cares?! "_ So many volatile words. And yet these long unfilled silences seemed harder to swallow.

"_It doesn't matter if Gotham cares or not! I do!"_

"How long are you going to stand there Dad?"

Jack Drake had gotten so used to watching his son's shadow tremble on the wall, that when the boy finally spoke, the reverie was broken, forcing him to leave the darkness of the doorway and move closer to the yellow lamp light of the boy's desk. He'd spent many nights walled in his room doing only God knows what. How many nights had the man pulled himself out of bed and seen the light on under his door?

But as Jack inched closer, he could see what Tim was hunkered over—a guitar. He hadn't seen the boy pick up something like that in years, but on closer inspection, Jack could see all the cracks that webbed out across that pale blue thing like scars. Watching Tim's deft fingers put such a small delicate sliver back in place, Jack couldn't help but notice the bruise like smudges under the boy's eyes. They'd gotten even darker. "I haven't seen you with a guitar in years." The man said carefully, half holding his breath as Tim slowly let the tweezers settle on the desk. How long he keep could this up? How long will he make himself live this way?

"Not mine." He said with a groan as he leaned back and stretched his arms above his head, making his long body seem even thinner. But then, when was the last time he'd seen the boy eat more than two bites? Even as his eyes scanned his desk, he could see the plate Dana had left for him still sitting there, untouched. Jack could feel himself frowning.

"Is this what you've been doing all this time?" the man asked, tilting his head at his son's handiwork, more than aware that the teen was watching him.

"Beats risking my life out there, right?" Tim asked suddenly, turning over a small shard of the guitar in his hand. Maybe he wasn't risking his life out there in the streets, but as Jack Drake saw it, his son was wasting away little by little right here in his room. It almost didn't matter if this city could survive without him—he couldn't survive without it.

"It's hers, isn't it?" Jack asked at last, glancing at the boy as he bit at his finger, no doubt trying to rid his flesh of a splinter. The question was enough to make him go still, and enough to make Jack free his own fingers as he stuffed the large envelope dangling in his grip under his arm, to reach out and snag his son's hand. The last time he'd done this, it was to get a fishing hook out of his hand. He was a hell of a lot younger then. He wasn't so determined to withdraw from the world back then either.

"Her mom's…" Tim answered, not seeming to mind as his father squeezed the flesh of his finger. "I guess that makes it hers." As Jack yanked the protruding splinter away, he could see Tim's eyes flitting to that small frame tucked on the corner of his desk. Unlike his boy, he knew that lovely face well.

"I wish you'd gotten to know yours better than you did." Jack said suddenly, feeling the jolt roll through his son's body just before he let boy's hand fall. "She was something." He said, resigning to a sigh. "Every time she'd walk into a room it was like she made all the air go out of it. If she put her mind to something—forget it, you'd pass out from a lack of oxygen before she'd ever change her mind." He said feeling his small smile shorten when his son let his gaze fall. "When you were little it was clear just how damn smart you were." The man said after the pause had gone on long enough. "Must've got it from her, because you certainly didn't get it from me." He murmured, aware of the dry chuckle that still found its way into his words. "And we…we were at a loss—we weren't geniuses, we didn't know how to nurture that in you. So we turned to your education instead." At his words he could see Tim glancing up at him. "I'm not making excuses Tim. I'm sure we lied to ourselves about what that was stealing from you in return. But we had the best of intentions." He told the boy, handing him the envelope. "I can't take credit for the man you've become. You became him on your own."

"Dad-"

"No. Let me say this. You were right when you said I may not have the strength to help you carry the burdens you bear." He said, watching the contents inside that orange envelope spill out across the desk. Trimmed articles fell to the surface like lost feathers. Max Collin's obituary. The front page article where he could still see his son crouching down at that wall of flowers and teddy bears beneath the window of Page for Parents. But then there were more. Edward Killinger embracing his parents. Anabel Collins emerging from those tunnels under the earth. And the magazine cover showing those iconic shadows on that ruined bridge. "All I'm asking is that you let me try." Jack added, watching his son pick up the frayed patch that was hiding among the paper.

"Did you-"

"No." Jack murmured, watching him turn the patch over in his hands, eyeing the soft scrawling ink that was etched in the back. It was just a single word. _Always_. "I don't think any of them have such…girly handwriting." Jack added. "I got that maybe a day after…and at first I was so damned angry that she'd even think to send that to me. But the more I stared at it, the more I began to see… just who my son really was." He could hear that chair squeaking under the weight of his words, and yet the man couldn't take his eyes off the desk, even when he felt the boy's arms wrap around him. "That's the man I want to get to know."

"Don't start getting all emotional and crap on me, Old Man." Tim grumbled, listening to that hoarse laugh fall into the rhythm of his father's hand as it slapped him on the back.

"Who are you calling old, Boy?" The man cried, tapping the teen on his cheek with his palm. But as the man stepped back he shook his head. "I'll talk to Wayne myself." He said, paying no mind to Tim's suspicious face. "Hey, I _can_ be civil with the man."

"_Right_."

"I didn't say anything about having to like it." Jack muttered. There. There was a ghost of smirk. "Your stepmother can't know. I don't know if she could handle it. Hell, I don't know if I can…well. You know…"

"I'll be alright, Dad.

"I know. I know you will." Jack said quietly, forcing himself to turn back for the door. "But before you fly coop, because I know that's what you'll do—eat something for God's sake and at least get one good nights rest first." Catching the shake of Tim's dark haired head, Jack paused by the door. "Oh, and one more thing."

"What's that, Dad?"

"Don't let someone like her slip through your fingers."

* * *

She didn't recognize this smell, this dampness, this sticky warmth that almost felt humid—but then it was hard to pick anything else out over the rusty scent of her own blood. _Where am I?!_ But there was nothing but darkness, a darkness that was filling with the thickness of her ragged breathes. Never in the darkest corners of her imagination did Sasha Bowman ever think the night would go like this. One minute she was leaning in to kiss her date on the cheek outside her dorm and the next thing she knew…she was on the pavement at his feet, unable to move, unable to make a sound—unable to stop what happened next.

Her body ached, and yet at the same time it was like she was still wading through a haze, even when she felt herself fall to something that felt like rough concrete. But as the young woman laid there, listening to the sound of waking moans and bitter sobs, something else raked across her ears, like a bellowing of a bell. It gave to a strange cacophony of sounds as it echoed around her, the sound of heavy sliding doors-like doors on tracks, the sound of shoes on the pavement and the murmur of voices.

"We'll separate them later, right now, they need to be cleansed." Cleansed? Cleansed of what? Feeling someone's fingers, grip the back of her head, Sasha found her breath catching in her lungs as the cover on her face began to loosen. But just as she found herself eager to see light of any kind, a familiar voice cut over the din.

"And what about my payment?!" She'd never have another blind date in her life after this. If she ever had the chance.

"Shut up, only the Collector will determine if you get paid or not."

The fingers were curling into her hair, she could feel the hand catching and releasing. "That depends entirely on what you've brought us." The that black covering lifted from her face, the woman found herself squinting though the low light to look up at the white masked face that was all but hidden beneath the folds of a dusky green cloak. "Well now, isn't she a lovely little bird?" She thought to scream, she thought to cry or yell or make some kind of noise, any sound at all, but as the man tilted her chin with his gloved fingers—she was silent as the grave. "A request?"

"Someone wanted a dancer. One that was young enough to be broken."

"And are you a dancer, little dove?"

_There are people behind him. Lots of people. _Sasha had gotten so preoccupied with the shuffling shadows and the flicker of lamp light that had almost forgotten the man had spoken at all. Until she felt something hot and sharp like a shock press through her back, wringing a cry out of her without her consent.

"The master has spoken to you!" But as the girl blinked through the tears that had welled up in her eyes, she could see the cloaked one holding up his free hand.

"That's enough." His words were soft. "Now then," he said again, his fingers digging into her chin like claws, "Be a good girl and answer my question."

"Y-yes." No sooner had the word croaked out of her did his fingers stop clawing at her.

"How long?"

"Th-thirteen years."

"Thirteen? Now Pet, don't start lying to me. You hardly look over the age of twenty."

"She's a ballet dancer. the requester wanted a dancer with elegance and grace. They didn't specify what kind of dancer they were looking for other than that."

"So you brought them a ballerina?" The sound that deep and throaty laugh made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Without warning, the man let her face drop as he kneeled down in front of her. When he reached for her foot, Sasha didn't so much as move, hell, she didn't so much as breathe as the man gently coaxed the strappy black shoe off her foot.

"You certainly have the feet of a ballerina. If you're as talented as your feet are ragged, I'm afraid you'll be wasted on them." Without another word to her the man rose. "Pay him half."

"HALF?! But-" Before that blonde haired pretty boy could finish his sentence, the masked man gripped that heel in his hand like a stake before striking him dead in the face. Sasha could only cower there on the floor trying to ignore the tacky drops that touched her cheek as the man proceeded to wail on him, crushing bone and flesh alike.

"Ignorant fool! Know what the requester really wants before you add to the collection!" With that he let the bloody shoe drop to the floor, letting the sound echo through the darkness. Even his sigh was loud. "Make sure his face is fixed. He's an idiot, but he does lure them in."

"And what about the ballerina? She wouldn't last in the pits."

Even as Sasha tried to make herself as small as possible, she couldn't get her mind off the feel of someone else's blood drying on her skin. What the hell were these people going to do?! "No. Clean her up, let her rest, and then bring her to me. She may be refined enough for our high bidders." But just as she thought the man would walk away, he paused. "Let's hope you dance as well as that boy thought you did…Pretty One."

* * *

"They're our kind of people—if you know what I mean." Lonnie Roach. When you needed something off the streets of Gotham, this was the man you went to. After all, who'd pay any attention to a little roach? It was taking everything Jason had not to smash him into the pavement and smear his guts along the sidewalk like the insect he was. But it'd taken a long time to get to this point—that and hell of a lot of guns. As they say, money talks, bullshit walks. "Get on their good side and they'll let you into the bigger stuff." Roach said, ducking into Drunken Crow, a little hole in the wall pub. It was dead as usual, the air still lingering with the smell of cigars, lard and the sour breath of drunkards.

"Ah, you decided to show after all, Roach." The gruff call all but force's Jason's eyes to bar, reminding him just whose part of town he's in. Bird might've been wiping down the bar, but his eyes were on Jason, no doubt sizing him up in a glance. "This the kid you mentioned?"

"Oh, shit, excuse me." Roach said, stepping out of the way as they moseyed closer. "Yeah, yeah. This is JT. Been a real help ta' me." Yeah, by help, he meant moving weapons. What he didn't know was that Jason had left a little something extra with those weapons.

"A help, huh?" Bird said with a tilt of his head as he dried his hands. "No one helps anyone in Gotham for nothing…especially in our world."

_So why did you help the Pipsqueak? _"A guy has to do what a guy has to do to survive." Jason said evenly, dismissing the thought as he watched Roach's thin body relax ever so slightly. "Especially in this city. She's not the most hospitable place on earth."

He could see Bird's thin lips pursing as he gave a nod. "That she's not, but she's a hard to quit." He said at last holding out his hand to him. "Bird." But as the man shook his hand, he didn't quite let go. "Something familiar about you. We met before?"

"Don't think so."

"You don't think so…" Just when he though he might've fucked things, up, the man let go of him. "JT was it?"

"It was."

"Hope you're in the mood to lose your money." Bird murmured with a smirk as he turned toward a perch that was sitting at his back letting a falcon claw its way up his arm to roost on his shoulder like an overgrown parrot. Roach automatically took a couple steps back. _Someone's had a run in with Talon_, Jason thought, and watching Bird lift a few bottles from the shelf beside him before he lead the newcomers into the back room of smoke, cards and crooked faces.

"Fresh meat." A man rumbled, not minding the scantily clad thing that was withering on his lap. The second Bird sank into his seat beside them, the girl slid off and immediately started to slink away from the table. "Why do ya gotta scare her off like that?" The man grumbled, half watching the new faces take their seats and half watching Bird turn on the TV that was perched in the corner of the room.

"Did I say a word?" Bird asked, not even trying to hide his smirk as he reached for the cards, paying no mind at all to the older man who reached back and snagged the girl by the wrist. "If you're not careful, the old man, might steal her." He murmured bridging the cards in his hand, as the old man in question tapped his scruffy cheek, beckoning the girl's lips.

Only when she plopped a kiss on his cheek did he reach over to the wad of cash in front of her John and hand her a fold of bills. "Because you know he's gonna be broke by the end of the night." The girl smiled.

"I was gonna pay her!"

"Yeah…next year, maybe."

"Run along, Rabbit." At the sound of Bird's voice, the girl snatched up her coat, turned tail and practically fled. But not before Jason spotted the familiar shape of circles grouping together across her arm. _Those kids in the alley, they had that too._

"So you like to gamble, do you, Kid?" The old man asked, stopping to take a drag from his cigar. Cuban if he wasn't mistaken.

"Yes, Sir. Would I be here if I didn't?"

"You hear that? He called me Sir." The old man jested, letting his eyes rest on the screen that was at Jason's back.

"Pipe down Old Man. There's not enough room here for that ego." Bird sneered, winning a few chuckles from the table as he threw a few chips into the pot. "A polite smart ass." He mused aloud, watching Jason call his bet. "What else do you bet on?"

"Fights and poker mostly."

Bird's narrow blue eyes seemed to glimmer at that as he watched the young man lay down his cards. "Fights, huh? I know of a few fights that might be lucrative." He said, as he scraped the pot into his chips. "That is…if I don't break your piggy bank first."

"The pits?" Roach asked, sounding more like an excited child than a balding adult. But the words only force Jason to hold his breath. _B-but they're going to send me to the pits!_ Even now he could still hear that small thing so clearly. _She's just a kid_. A terrified kid.

"The pits."

He could see the other men smirking over their cards, leaving Jason to stare at his hand. "What are they?" He asked, half aware of the TV's murmuring at his back.

"I_ think our real dark horse is going to be Delilah Wayne, we haven't seen her on the circuit for months. But from what I understand she's still holding onto her bid in the Santa Prisca Invitational. I'm excited to see what skills she's been working on." _

"You'll see." Bird murmured, watching the young man tilt an ear to the TV as he fought not to turn around. "Now are you in or not?"

This was moving faster than he anticipated. Hell, why would Bird let him in so easily? There had to be a reason for it. _Watch your ass, he's still suspicious of you_. With the warning all but humming through his ears, Jason shoved his chips into the pot, making sure to hold the man's scrutinizing eyes. "I'm in."

* * *

"Someone's glad to be home." Dick noted, watching the girl's shadow as she released from the high bar, forcing her body to straddle and summersault through the air before reaching for the high bar with an echoing rattle. Try as she may, she couldn't hide the creasing in her face—things were still tender, and yet here she was twisting, turning and straddling the air. "You know why she's doing it, don't you?" He murmured, knowing full well that the man leaning on the inside of the door would hear him. He wasn't sure when he became aware that Bruce Wayne was lurking at his back. In truth he was surprised the man had even made it out of the cave at all. It'd been weeks and he was no closer to finding those kids.

"She should've—"

"Scratched?" Dick couldn't stop himself from quirking a brow at the man. "Let's see you tell her that." Dick spat. What? Did he think that he hadn't tried? "That's like telling you to leave the cowl alone until your head's healed." He said, taking his eyes off the girl for just a moment. "Hell would freeze over first." No matter how he tried to talk her into it, scratching from Santa Prisca wasn't an option. "This is just as important to her."

Watching her rotate over the high bar to build her momentum, Dick could only hold his breath as she flung herself free, snaking her body into not one but two backward twisted somersaults. But even with his applause, he could see her face pinching as she wobbled and stepped back on the landing.

"Shit." She hissed, ripping the grips from her hands, it didn't matter, the on her palms was all but raw under the chalk lines. But just as the girl went to dart for the spring board, she found herself caught by Dick's arms. Before she could even twist to shove him away, he was kicking her legs out from under her, forcing her to crash to the mat in a panting heap. _"Dick!"_

"Break time."

"You can be such a butt."

"You've been at this since four in the morning. It's noon." Dick said, watching her peel herself up and head right back toward the bars. "If you don't chill out, you're only going to get sloppier." He said, watching her dip her hands into the chalk. "You're pushing it. Too much momentum is just as bad if not worse than too little." He said, watching her pause as the dust formed a cloud in the air. "Take a break, clean yourself up and clear your head."

"I just want to get it right."

"Then do as he says." At the sound of his low command, that thin frame seemed to go sill in the dull winter light.

"How long have you been standing there?" She murmured, her tight shoulders rolling down into a slump, before she walked off the mat completely.

"Long enough."

"Just long enough to see me fail." She put in, bending down to yank up a towel and a fist full of paperwork. "Entry forms." She said, holding them out to Dick. "I already filled out most of it." She told him as she worked her way by them to get to the door. "Damian up yet?"

"Nope. After putting up with the Riddler last night, and staying up 'til who knows when, the kid's still out like a light. Why do you think the house is so quiet?" Dick asked, relived to win even the faintest of smirks out of her, before she slipped out the door, leaving him there with Bruce. "No, it's nothing you said. She always gets a little snarky around entry time." Dick said, with a tilt of his head as he handed the folded papers out to the man.

_How many seats do you wish to reserve for family? _He didn't expect that blue inked 0 to take the air out of his lungs. "Why didn't she just—"

"Ask? Why would she make you choose between her and Gotham when she thinks she already knows the answer?"

He never wanted to walk the line like this. But then he never thought he'd be choosing between being a father and being something else entirely. Maybe there was a time when he fooled himself into believing he could somehow straddle this dual life. It seemed like nothing more than a fantasy now, and a dead one at that.

He didn't imagine he'd find her sitting on the floor of that familiar room, picking quietly at a guitar that was certainly too big for her arms. She didn't even look up; it was like she already knew it was him. He could see her head tilting toward him as he stole a pen off her desk, but said nothing, she just continued to press her fingers into the frets of the guitar, letting the air soak up the soft twang of the strings.

"I didn't know you played. That one's a bit big for you, isn't it?"

"Mom's guitar was busted during the party." The girl lamented, "It's a big but it's the only thing I've got." She said, letting her fingers strum over the strings. "She taught me a little bit…but she never really used this one. I don't think she cared for this guitar as much as the other one."

Indeed, why would she? All that instrument seemed to do was stir things up. He could still hear the echo of Noah Larson's voice, the way the man's face twisted when his daughter stopped to stare at her bloody hands. Even now, he could still see Paige biting back her lip to control the unshed sobs as she forced herself to play, marring the brassy strings red.

Now the ashen looks on his parent's faces when they saw the girl's torn up hands made sense. "I wouldn't be surprised if a part of her hated that damn thing." The man said at last, watching his daughter's hands still as her head popped up. "You know who it belonged to don't you?" He asked, nodding toward the initials that were all but scratched into the head of the guitar. "Noah Larson—"

"Her Dad." She mumbled softly, turning the instrument over in her lap. "She didn't talk about him much."

"He was…he was definitely different than anything I was used to." He could see Del's lips frowning in the guitar's reflection.

"He up and left when Mom was nine." The girl put in. "She never saw him again. Maybe it was just as well. But I don't know why she kept it."

"Because it was her father's." He added, tossing the amended paperwork in the girl's lap. He could only watch her as she set the guitar aside to pick up the documents to stare at them and the adjusted number overriding her ink.

"You…you actually want to go?" She asked, her voice barely breaking over a surprised squeak. "Did Dick say—"

"You're not going to start the water works are you?"

"_Dad!" _

"I mean I could always call the Boy Scout back and cancel."

"Gah, you can be such a butthead." The girl muttered, wiping her eyes with the ends of her sleeves. "Now I know where Dick gets it." She said, staring at the folded papers in her lap. "Are you sure? I-I mean if you can't…"

"Do you want me to go or not?"

"Y-yeah."

"Then I'll go."

"Promise?" He paused at that, unsure of what to make of those large blue watery eyes. It wasn't like he was aiming to make the girl cry.

"Promise. Now knock that off." He said, reaching out and flicking the girl on the tip of her nose. "You're taking all the fun out of it."

"_Sir, I hate to interrupt, but you have a visitor." _

"Alfred! Help! He said the 'f-word.'" The voice on the intercom went utterly silent.

"_I beg your pardon Miss?" _

"He said _fun_. I'm scared." Del squeaked out.

"_That is frightening."_

* * *

The snow was just deep enough to hold her footprints, tracking her movements from the Manor down into the snarled trees. Bare birches, leafless and like her they were shivering in the cold. _He promised._ Strangely enough, the cold didn't matter. _He_ _actually_ _promised_…That had never happened before. Trampling the half frozen world under her boots, Del could only spin, blurring the whites, grays and greens together in blobs of color, never minding the soft touch of snow on her cheek, or the breathlessness of her lungs. The only thing that stilled her world was that laugh, soft and warm, scratchy as if bitten by the cold but not quite so deep.

"When nobody's looking…"

"Tim." His name slid off her lips in a patchy cloud that was as gray as the sky that stretched out over their heads, but unlike that opaque wispy thing, he was real, as real as the shadows of the trees that cut across him. As real as the sound of the oars in his hands cutting through the chunks of ice that had formed across the pond. As real as the dock under her feet as she slowly pulled herself closer trying to still the hammering of her heart as the wood creaked beneath her feet—the pond was anything but solid.

"I bet if I waited a bit longer, I probably would've caught you trying to catch snow on your tongue." He jested softly, watching the girl purse her pale lips as she crossed her arms in front of her.

"Now you'll never know."

"Now I'll never know." He murmured, the smile on his face seemed to light up the shadows that stretched over him.

"So the visitor…that's…"

"My Dad."

"He's gonna let you—he's—are you serious?!"

"That's the hope anyway. He wanted to talk to Bruce alone." Tim said, watching the thing hop up and down there on the dock, forcing her scarf to flutter like a flag. The small rickety boat paused at the edge of pier, wobbling up and down like a bobber as the boy out stretched his hand to her. There was something eerie about the way she grew so still. "You're not afraid are you?" He asked, watching her eyes flit from his gloved fingers to the water. But just as he thought to goad her a little further, the air slipped from her in one big cloud before she reached out filling that open hand with her own. It was strange weight, familiar and yet so foreign like the soft tremble he was certain he could feel. But as the boat rocked under her weight, forcing her to cling to him with her free hand, it was too late to think. He just reached for her, stilling her. "Easy. Boats aren't your thing are they?"

"Water's not my thing." She uttered, nearly letting herself fall down on the seat across from him.

"But you took a ferry to Arkham?"

"Because Dad wouldn't expect me to." She said, scraping at her cheek with her frozen fingers to pry the slender wisps of hair away from her mouth. When the boy reached out and did it for her, Del's hands fell to her lap. "And it wasn't like I was gonna tell Damian." At that Tim rolled his eyes, half watching the girl's arms stretch out to steady herself as he shoved the boat away from the dock with the point of an oar. "He'd never let me live that down. He'd push me overboard for the hell of it."

"Probably." He murmured, half smirking at her as she struggled to maintain herself. "Hey, I'm not gonna let you drown or anything. Been there, done that, haven't we?"

"Y-yeah." She breathed, watching him pull the oars from the water and let them rest in the latches of the boat, setting them a drift in the mixture of wraith like shadows, patchy gray clouds and the specks of white that kept coming down.

"Spiders, thunder and bodies of water?"

"Just the bodies of water…it's not like I'm going to set the house on fire for a spider or anything."

"So why the water?" He asked, watching her stretch forward to snag one of the pads of paper that was sitting next to him.

"You mind?"

"No, no. Go ahead." He murmured in rushed words. There was something strange about watching those red tipped fingers trace over his work before she found herself a fresh page. When her empty hand reached out, sneaking a pencil that was peeking out of his pocket, Tim didn't so much as move, hell, he wasn't sure if he even breathed. He just listened to the ice that scraped across the sides of the boat.

"I almost drowned once before…" The girl whispered, the sound of the pencil dragging across the paper almost masking her voice out. "I don't remember too much. My hair got caught on the drain. Next thing I know…I was poolside coughing up water. Mom looked away just for a second. I don't know what for, but she never forgave herself for it. I haven't cared for the water since then." She said glancing up at him. "I don't remember fighting to save myself. It's like…I was lulled into accepting my fate. Then I could feel Mom grabbing me." Delilah shrugged, letting her eyes return to the paper before she found herself staring at Tim for too long. "I gave in. Just like that." _You almost drowned right here in this pond too._ She didn't know the pencil had rolled from her fingers until she felt those gloved hands curling over hers.

"No wonder you fight so damn hard all the time."

"I can't be _that_ bad."

He could feel her icy fingers flexing in his, and try as he may, he couldn't stop that side winding smirk. "Lesser people would've broken by now." He murmured, watching those pert lips twitch. Almost. "People break themselves like life is full of rocks or something. But you…you're a rock. You can't be moved or pushed in any direction. And people only have a few options, continue getting swept away by life, cling to you or break themselves on you."

"Have I broken you?" She asked slowly, making him so unsure of his words. But as he untangled his hands from hers, Del bit her lips, feeling her cold cheeks sliding into the palms of his damp gloves.

"I'd rather hold on if you don't mind." He uttered, watching those long dark lashes hide her gaze. "Thank you. Thank you for sending that stuff to my Dad."

"You're my partner. Wouldn't be any fun without you."

"Now which one of us is spending too much time with Dick?" He asked vaguely aware of that annoying voice echoing out from the house.

"You'd rather argue with Damian about speed and wind shear, is that it?"

"I'd rather kiss his sister." He whispered, feeling her fingers curl around his wrists.

"JAX! Get back here you mongrel!"

"Really now? And have you spoken to her about this?" She asked, feeling the pad slip from her lap to her feet as her body leaned into his, eager to feel the warm wisps of his breath touch her cheeks.

"Maybe… I'm not too sure what she thinks of the mess." He mumbled, letting his head lean against hers, oblivious to the noise, the cold, or the snow that was clinging to their cheeks.

"Why don't you kiss her and find out?"

No sooner had he tilted his head to dip closer to those silly lips, did he hear the sound of nails scrambling across the pier. Not even a curse had time to fall from his lips as the snow damp dog leapt into the boat, causing thing to rock and splash across the icy water as the animal struggled to find balance.

"JAX! Sit! Sit! Sit You Jerk-" It was too late. She couldn't remember the sudden prick of the adrenaline as the boat tipped, but the water couldn't be forgotten. The burning stab of the cold was all too familiar as she tried to claw her way back up to the surface, willing her lungs to exhale after the shock had all but paralyzed them. But there was nothing but darkness in the murky depths. No pale sun or gray looking ice. Just…blackness and the feel of someone's arms ripping her up.

"Hold on. I've got ya." The sound of her own gasps seemed so loud over his voice as she finally broke the surface finding herself cupped under the capsized rowboat. "Swimming isn't your strong suit." He noted, grabbing her when her head bobbed under the water. "We'll have to fix that." He muttered, clenching his jaw before it decided to chatter, but then, wrapping his arms around her, he'd almost forgotten about the cold.

"Damn…dog." Del uttered, in the midst of dragging the air into her lungs as the contents of the boat floated around them. Even now she could hear the dog swimming to shore and shaking himself out. What she didn't expect was for the boy she was so casually wrapped around to tilt back his head and laugh.

"What the fuck is it about our timing?! Jesus-"

_If you want something, you have to take it…_Maybe it was Selina's advice rolling around in her head, or maybe it was the nervous flutter driving her to cup that wet face in her hands. But the second she arched her head up to those lips and swallowed his words—it didn't matter.

Cold bodies, freezing water, everything felt numb—but those warm shivering lips. There was no certainty at first, like her own footing, his mouth was shy and unsure. But when she felt his hands reach down to lift her up, allowing her to wrap her body around him like a vine—the kiss changed, humming with broken laughs when he stumbled back smacking his head on the boat. "Do I have to kiss that and make it better?" She asked against his winding lips, the second he let her own mouth free.

There was something about the feel of her frozen fingers reaching up to cradle his head that made all the air in his lungs want to pause. Or maybe it was the soft brush of her lips traveling up his face to the offended spot, warming him with the soft whispering breaths of her laugh as she planted her lips on his head that made everything sort of hazy. Ice Queen? There was nothing cold about her! He never expected her to be so bold or that sweet at the same time.

God only knows what made him shift in that freezing water, turning her around to press her body against the capsized mass. "Why do you have to be so damn cute?" He asked, winning a breathy laugh out of her as her legs curled around him, letting him free his hands so he could finally reach out to her. So he could finally capture that laughing mouth. "That was one. I believe we missed this three times." He told her, watching those trembling lips break into a smile before he took them for himself, earning a gasp from her when uncertainty finally shed away. He'd never kissed anyone this way before…and yet, with her it was all too easy. All too easy to unravel right there with her shivering body wrapped around his. "I always wanted to know what that laugh would feel like." He told her at last, ushering the words out in the veil of huffs and ragged giggles.

"Hold on there, Bird Boy. That was only two."

* * *

"There goes the dog…"

"And there go the kids." Bruce sighed, even in the reflection of the large deco windows, Jack could see the man shaking his head as he ambled back toward his desk for the intercom button. "Alfred, be warned-Thing One and Thing Two will be soaked from head to toe." With that the man let it go, never mind that he'd just referenced a children's book. No sooner had Jack turned his attention to the capsized boat floating there in the pond like a speck did he manage to make his tongue move.

"The agreement…"

"I still remember it. I won't go back on something like that Jack. No matter what we disagree on."

Jack could feel his breath hissing from his lips as he deflated there in front of the window, watching a pair of dark heads finally poke out of the water. "Good." He answered, watching those two foolish things work themselves out of the water. "Not a good swimmer, is she?" He asked, he asked, watching the reflection behind him ease a little as if he'd been holding a breath.

"You in some kind of trouble Jack?" Bruce asked, stepping closer to the window as that sound of a laugh began to spill out into the air. That ridiculous girl, wet and shaking was still sticking her tongue out in an attempt to catch the falling flakes.

"_You two are going to catch your deaths out here!"_

_"If only we could be so lucky, Pennyworth." _

"I'm not entirely sure." Jack said with a shrug, letting the silence between them as they watched Alfred usher in the sopping teenagers. "They're just kids…doesn't it bother you?"

"Every day."

* * *

**A/N: **Had to break it down into parts again. There's a lot of moving parts and foreshadowing to for the next chapter. So, what do you guys think? I know, they finally freaking kissed. Geez! **Broken Birds Part 2** is next, and I'm sure you can probably draw a few conclusions on who the victim(s) may be. Some of this will be a major theme for the sequel as well. Especially now that Jason is digging too.


	30. Broken Birds: Part 2

Nothing in this life had prepared her for this. Not for this kind of aching fear. It was the kind of fear that bruised her unbreathing lungs when the crowd swallowed her whole. It was the kind of terror that ripped out of her in protest when those strange hands tore at her, rendering her echoing useless as everything was ripped from her. The way they pulled and peeled- it was enough to summon the sting of tears. "Please! Please stop!" This was uncertainty; it felt like nothing more than nails digging down her skin. Soon she was wrapped in nothing but long jagged marks and the speckling of someone else's blood.

"Stop! Just _Stop_!" But even as the shrieks broke down to whimpers, the noise that came out of her only seemed to be absorbed by the squabbling around her. And no matter how Sasha tried…no matter how small she tried to make herself, they were still there, prodding and pulling at her with their greedy hands. There was nothing left on her person but jewelry and they wanted that too.

Sasha couldn't even look at the two girls who were all but throwing fists over the small silver hoops in her ears, only when she felt one begin to rip through her ear lobe, did something other than a dry heaving sob come screaming out of the young woman's lips. "Don't rip them out of her ears, you idiots. You maim her and the Collector will have your asses."

The new voice was enough to suppress the pulling. But the weight of the earrings left her anyway. "Where am I?! Who the hell are you people?!" But the only answer the woman earned was the feel of her locket cutting into her neck as someone's black painted nails curled around it. In one gut clenching moment, all modesty for her bareness was forgotten as Sasha clamped her trembling hands down on them, lifting her gaze to a girl with raven hair. _If_ _they_ _take_ _it…there's no hope_ of _getting_ _out_ _of_ _this_. _"Not this!" _She hissed, feeling her own necklace begin to choke her as the girl's plush lips curved into a guiling smile.

"You don't get a choice, _Pretty_ _One_." With her fingernails all but creating half-moons in the girl's pale fingers, Sasha could feel her words beginning to bubble up when something small…like a stone hit the black nailed girl in the back of the head. The second the teen jumped to her feet, the pressure around Sasha's neck released, leaving the woman choking on the dusty air. "Who the fuck threw that?!" The crowd all but stilled, becoming nothing but a hum of whispers and murmurs as a sharp voice echoed out.

"I did! That's enough!"

Through the blur of her watery eyes and the soft plumes of smoke, Sasha could only make out such a small shadow standing at the edge of the parted throng. Only when it moved could she see the small silver haired girl with her armful of rocks. Rocks she continued fling. No one dared to move when the dark haired girl dashed for her, forcing her to drop the pile in a clatter as she turned to flee. But it wasn't enough. She was caught by the back of the shirt and thrown to the dirt. "Who are you to tell me what to do you little runt?!" The teen screeched, as she landed right on top of the child. "How 'bout I make it so you can never talk again? How 'bout that that?!" _It's not real. What I'm watching can't be real! _ But to her horror, the girl was forcing the little blonde's mouth open with one hand, and fisting her fingers around the fallen rocks with the other. No one moved. No one batted an eye. No one even tried to help her. They just continued to stare…and whisper.

_She was trying to help you…_The woman could feel her stomach flip as her mouth fell open. "Just take it! Leave her be!" She didn't know this kid from Adam, what the fuck was she saying?! But the sound of the girl choking on the rocks and dirt, only made the woman yell louder. "She's just a kid! Take the damn thing!" But just as Sasha felt herself stumbling to get to her feet, someone with hair the color of a flame came barreling in knocking the dark haired girl back with a tackle to the ground.

"Big mistake, Bitch!"

Sasha could feel her body collapsing, as the child rolled to her side, spitting up rocks and coughing up clouds of dust from her blood caked mouth.

"Aw, big sister Aiden to the rescue!"

"That doesn't exactly work in your favor, Jerica."

The girl named Jerica leapt to her feet, forcing a shriek to rip out of Sasha's mouth when she caught the glimmer of metal in the primitive light. Only when the blade clipped the side of Aiden's twisting head did the young woman realize her mistake. She had distracted the girl. But as the blood rolled down her cheek, the girl stepped back as if she were preparing herself for the next attack. "She bleeds!"

Her assailant came rushing at her with and overhand slash for the girl's head and neck, but as Sasha's lungs tightened, so certain the girl was going to get stuck by the blade, Aiden quickly threw her hands up, grabbing the inside of the girl's wrist and upper arm with both hands. In the space it took to blink she bent that arm back, clearing her own space as she brought the girl to bend down. No sooner did her knee come up and pop the girl in the face, did she wrench the blade away from her fingers.

The feel of something itchy and rough wrapping around her body made Sasha jolt, she'd been so focused on the two warring girls that she hadn't noticed the child had made it to her side. Her fingers eagerly curled around the weathered blanket as she watched the girl with hair the color of fire dive on top of her opponent, pressing that blade to her throat. "Ever come near my sister again, I'll kill you in your sleep."

"Aiden! Save it for the pits!" The new voice had the throng splitting open, letting a broad shouldered man with a long blonde ponytail cut through to rip the girls apart. Keeping a firm twist on Aiden's arm, he left Jerica laughing on the ground.

"Why can't I just kill her now and be done with it?!" Aiden snapped, yanking herself out of his hold. The man never stepped any closer. Any closer and his face would be completely in the light.

"Says the bitch who can only kill me when I'm sleeping!"

"I'd kill you any time."

"If you kill her without the collector's permission, you're as good as dead. And what good is a dead sister?" Even in those dusky shadows, Sasha could feel the weight of his gaze resting on her. It was enough to make her skin prickle. "Who'll take care of that one?" He asked gruffly. But no sooner had the query broken the tension did the small child beside her rise to her feet.

"I will."

"Damn bleeding heart." Aiden groaned, paying no mind to the man's subtle nod or Jerica as she climbed to her feet just to walk right up and fist her fingers on the chain around Sasha's neck. It came off with a snap. With a purse of her lips she simply sauntered off-twirling her prize in her fingers.

* * *

"It happens to everyone who comes here." The small voice, all but shook the young woman from her thoughts. These scrapes and scratches, the blood on her neck…an imprint of the chain that had once been there. It wasn't just a gold locket with familiar faces inside…

"Where _is_ here?" Sasha asked, tucking her long slender legs under her chin paying no mind to how the steam of the spring had turned her skin akin to a raisin. Hot springs under the city of Gotham. Who would've thought?

"Hell."

"Aiden, stop it."

"No. It's crash course time." The girl hissed, stopping to crouch at the water's edge. "Bet'cha didn't think you'd be sold into slavery in this day and age. " She said, tapping Sasha on the arm where those rings marred her skin. "They picked you because you were something someone desired."

"You-you mean…sex trafficking?" The young woman stammered. But the redhead was glancing up at the stone ceiling.

"They snatch us off the street, train us in a profession and sell us off…you might get lucky. The collector has a thing for girls like you. You better know how to dance, and dance well. Only black market children and the extremely talented end up on the auction block. The rest of us are forced to scramble to hone a skill or else end up being sold to a brothel or some fucking pervert."

"But you're a good dancer, right? You might be okay. It's not just the creeps they sell to. People are always looking for maids and governesses, hired hands…and good fighters. All sorts of stuff really." Clara put in quickly, watching the woman's face pale at her sister's words.

"I'm just a college student…I'm not with a dance company or anything."

"You're screwed."

"Aiden!"

Scrambling for the towel Clara had given her, Sasha peeled herself from the water in a panic. "Is there a way out of here?!" She asked, watching Aiden rise to her feet. "Has anyone ever escaped from here?!"

"Do you even know where you are?! You so far underground that not even Satan himself can hear your ass!" Aiden snapped. "We've tried! If they catch you, they kill you!" The girl twisted around, pressing her thin arms into her chest. "Then they sell off your organs. Even in death…they make money off you."

"This was supposed to be one of the very first subways in the city at the turn of the century, but as they were building they hit the springs. Without enough money to continue on this spot, Gotham just cut its losses and walled it up and built new tunnels and stations right on top of it. Most of Gotham doesn't even know it's here…" Clara put in slowly. "That's why the entire town is built out of train cars."

"How long before they sell you off?" Sasha asked, her words all but forcing Aiden to face her.

"It depends on you. If you're not useful in anything in particular, they'll try to sell you off as quick as possible. Even if it means you end up being someone's hooker in the red-light district."

"What do they do…with children? Like your sister?"

"Babies and toddlers are sold off to couples—but…" Aiden shook her head, turning away from the weight of her little sister's gaze. "She's too old for that. They're not above selling to pedophiles." Aiden said slowly, watching Clara's throat bob as she swallowed.

"We've seen it happen." The child uttered thickly. "But Aiden's going to teach me to fight…that's why the Collector let us stay together so long. Groups that come in and buy the best fighters. They turn them into body guards."

"And you think you can do that?" Sasha asked, paying no mind to Aiden as she averted her gaze. But Clara's nervous fingers told her all she needed to know. No. She couldn't. This child was way too smart or kind for that line of work. She could feel the words bubbling at her lips again, and before her brain could tell her mouth to shut the fuck up, her heart was shoving the words out. _You_ _have_ _a better chance of escaping than_ she _does_.

"Is there any way to get that locket back?" She asked suddenly, earning nothing more than a scoff from Aiden.

"Forget it!"

"You don't understand! It could save us!" She shot out, as the girl started to walk away. "What if I told you that I had a Robin looking out for me?" She called, watching the girl pause with an ear to the air.

Clara's small mouth was wide open. "You-you mean…the Batman and Robin? _That_ Robin?!" The child cried.

"Yes. What if I told you there was a tracking device in _that_ locket?" She asked, watching Aiden turn at last, but before she knew it the girl was upon her gripping her by the front of her towel.

"Are you shitting me?! You're not making this up?!"

"No. All we have to do is turn it on. If we give it to your sister, it'll lead him right to her no matter where she goes."

"You're going to give the only thing that could save your ass to a kid you don't know?"

"She risked herself for me."

"And just what the hell are _you_ going to do?"

"Dance my ass off and pray." With that the girl uncoiled her fingers and turned for the exit.

"Aiden! Where you going?!"

"There's only one way to get it back now!" Aiden shouted, refusing to look back at her little sister's crumbling form.

"Where's she going?"

"The pits…to fight Jerica."

"So if she beats up this Jerica, she'll get it back?"

But the little blonde was shaking her head. "Doesn't work like that. Jerica has the highest price tag among all the fighters. She's the champion. The only way to defeat her…is to kill her."

* * *

"Good work as always." The man murmured, aware of scoffing sound that was all but hissing through the good doctor's bandages. Instead he let his gloved finger's cup the young man's chin, turning his face this way and that as he inspected the man's handiwork.

"Pleasure in the job puts perfection in the work."

"He left a scar on my chin."

"A reminder." The man said, watching the boy's pale blue eyes grow with the pressure of his fingers. "That was just a shoe. I wouldn't tell the ladies that if I were you." He added smacking the young man on the cheek. "I won't be so kind next time. This is your last chance. Now, go find us a songbird. Relatively young."

"Vocal Range?"

"Surprise me." He said lightly, watching the young man slide to his feet from the bench. "Take a couple owls with you, but do try to keep them intact. They're on loan."

"Yes, Master. Thanks again, Doc."

"Don't mention it. Ever." But just as the young man went to open the door, the doctor spoke again. "Ask Nurse Evelyn for your scripts. And Seth…" The boy paused. "Don't call me Doc."

"Is it me or is everyone just a little mad around here?" The blonde muttered, but he nodded anyway, letting the Collector's words chase him out into the hall.

"There is no great genius without a mixture of madness. Do you require anything?"

"Test subjects."

The man in the mask knew better than to ask. It was strange tit for tat kind of relationship between the two. One fixed the broken collectables, while the other found more for the good doctor to break. There was only one rule. Don't ask questions. Who was he to ask what the consumer did with the goods? All he did was collect them. "Consider it done."

* * *

How long did she stand there trying to let that nauseating smell of chlorine seep into her skin? How many times did she have to glance down at the tiles just to be sure nothing was running red? She'd always avoided that room, and had made sure to do so every night since. She didn't hear his bare feet sticking to the floor, she didn't see his shirt pooling on the floor. But the moment that hand cupped her elbow, it took everything she had not to come at him swinging. Her muscles were all but trembling and yet…he didn't let go.

"You got this…I was with you then, and I'm with now, okay?" The second his fingers uncurled from her flesh, she felt her lungs force a shuddered breath, watching him break the smooth surface of the water with a simple dive into the pool. Forcing her jellied legs to move to the edge she sank to the floor, feeling the itch of anxiety begin to crawl up her feet all the way to her fingers. _It's not the drowning you're afraid of. You've already done that._ But as the girl eased her legs into the lukewarm water, she could feel her heart begin to hammer away. _What are you afraid of?_ Under Tim's steady gaze, the girl eased herself into the pool.

"I don't know if-I can't-" _Don't let fear be the boss._

"Yes you can." Feeling his fingers grip around her wrist, he yanked her into shallower waters, before reaching for her other hand. "You're not going to drown. I can promise you that."

"It's not that I…"

"Then what?"

"I'm afraid I'll…"

When his hands reached out and cupped her face, pulling her close enough she could feel his exhales on her skin, the words trailed. "I'm not gonna let you quit, Del. But the only one who can decide when to surrender is you." He murmured, letting her go, forcing her to keep herself above the water on her own. "We're just going to wade into it one step at a time."

* * *

"I'm gonna kill him!" Damian announced, letting that heavy door slam behind him. But as the boy slid into that hall that was slowly starting to grow familiar, nothing responded to him but the soft notes of a piano. It wasn't a melody he was familiar with, but it was enough to pull him closer to the soft shadow that was gently swaying to the music. For just the briefest of moments, Delilah paused, lifting up her head like she might actually respond to him, but her slender hand only reached for a pencil to put to the blank bars of the sheet music. He had no choice but to scoff at her back before plopping down in the empty space of her bench. "And as well as you listen, I might as well kill you too." He added, letting his eyes follow her fingers as they lay back down on the keys, filling the room with careful notes. "I'll bury you in the garden so every time someone walks out there they'll be walking right on top of you. Don't worry, I'll take care your stupid dog."

"Bet the roses would take off." The girl murmured suddenly, taking the pencil from her teeth to jot down a few more notes. "I'd throw _your_ body in the pond. You could feed the fish. And then when it froze, I'd skate on you. I'd probably have to cut you up into tiny pieces first. Maybe I'll just use your katana for that." She said, letting a few more bars echo out from the piano. But then she was looking at him. "Don't worry, I'd make sure that that mean ass cat of yours was taken care of for the rest of his days though." She shot him a faint little smile, but the boy just rolled his big green eyes, letting his fingers fiddle with the keys before him.

He didn't expect her to pause letting the pencil grow still in her hand before slowly looking down at him. Her fingertips carefully ran through her last four bars but then she just looked at him so expectantly. "Play that again." She murmured, paying no mind to that sigh that seemed to be collapsing through him as his fingers banged on the keys. "Ooo, No. _Softer_. You're not trying to beat it to death." Before his mouth could utter a word, he could feel her hand pressing into his back. "Sit up straighter." She instructed, watching the boy unfold himself beside her. "It's just like the little hawks. You can't just fling them in air any more than you can bang around on the keys. It takes precision-finesse." She added, giving him a nudge with her elbow as she played the same keys once more. "Again."

His fingers moved, softer now, winning nothing more than a nod of her head and a whisper of praise before she put that pencil to the sheet music again. He could hear the door opening, but made no move to turn his head, he kept his eyes on Del's nimble fingers, watching them fold out over the keys. "So what did Dick do now?"

"Not Grayson." The boy said with a snort. "It's that other idiot!"

"It's only been a week, Damian."

"We don't need him!" We? Did he actually say _we_?!

"Dick needs to have at least one night to himself or he'll go nuts." Del muttered. "You can't go by yourself, and neither can I." Never mind that they weren't to engage any major criminals without back up. But that was another ball of wax.

"Then the solution is obvious." He hissed, watching her turn the page of the sheet music. "We go."

"The Wayne children take on Gotham." Hearing Sam's voice Del's fingers stilled. "That's a little more than terrifying." She murmured skipping over to the girl's side, ignoring Damian's groan completely. "But you're not on patrol _tonight_ are you?" The girl asked, pressing her hands together.

"No. Dad wants me to have one final checkup first." The girl grumbled, watching for Damian's fingers as she pulled the cover over the keyboard.

"Good." Sam said firmly, tapping her fingers together. "Because if you were, the nerds waiting for us at Mama Lou's would riot." There. That made the girl pause. "We thought we might steal you and go have some fun. One of the guys was telling me you guys usually sneak into places with good acoustics. I already cleared it with the Boss Man." She said quickly, stopping only to purse her lips together. "Maybe not the breaking and entering part…"

Delilah hung her head, not giving that child beside her a second glance as his face soured under her stifled laugh. "I think I know where we could go actually." The girl said, slowly rising to her feet. "But there's one stop I have to make, if that's okay? I just want to drop something off."

"Sure, okay." Watching the girl dash down the hall, Sam eased herself into the vacated spot. "She hasn't played the piano with anyone else since Max." But Damian said nothing as he pulled himself from the bench. He simply walked to the door.

"I know."

* * *

"Delilah." The second her father's fingers gripped around her arm, forcing her to pause there on the stairs, all she could think about was the weight of the key thumping her in the chest. _Did he see me slip into the office? Did he open the safe? _ She let out a soundless breath, watching his fingers disappear into the pocket of his tux. "Take this." The microphone seemed so small in his hand. But the girl reached for it carefully, letting it fit into her ear. "And you can have this back." He added, reaching right into her coat pocket for her phone.

"You're looking awful snazzy." She said, watching him pry the device open and place its original card back in place. The locator was still there. "What's the monkey suit for?" She asked, watching his chest fall with an exhale. "_Oh, whatever_. Your _other_ suit is probably in the car already, and you'll sneak out after you've had all the butt kissing you can stand." She groaned, watching his lips twitch ever so slightly as he let her phone slide right back into her pocket. "Your fractures aren't healed completely…but yet I can't—"

"_Del_."

"I know! I know! 'Do as I say, not as I do.' Blah, blah, blah." She said with her own sigh as she reached out and fixed his crooked bowtie. "One bat calling the other black, but I digress." With that she twisted her way around and prepared to hop down the stairs when her father's fingers hooked into the collar of her coat, forcing the key around her neck to jerk.

"I don't know what you're trying to pull." He said coolly, forcing the hair on the back of her neck to stand. "But I don't like it."

"I'm not-"

Without warning he relieved her of her backpack, ripping it open to reveal the original batgirl suit stuffed inside. "What else do you have on you?" He asked dryly, watching her fingers sink to the inside of her coat revealing her Taser and a grappling gun. "You can keep those, but I'm keeping this." He said, letting the bag fall to his feet.

"_Ugh_. C'mon You-" Getting nothing but that wordless stare, Del put her hands on her hips, feeling the weight of the guitar case smack into the side of her leg. "_Fine_. Ya hypocrite."

"One last check up, not before. Now get out of here."

The second Del felt the soft sleet tapping her on the cheek, the weight of the guitar case was peeled from her fingers. She watched as Sam weighed the thing in her hands. "Did you just-"

"Yep. Dad has Barb's, my suit is still sitting on the table in the cave, but your new prototype..." The girl gave the case a shake. "The material folds nicely now."

"Dick was right. You _are_ trouble. No wonder we're friends." Sam said with a scoffing laugh. "But this is just to test it, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I've rewired it four times now, but it's still shorting out. I don't know what's causing it."

"I rather find out when I'm off duty than on duty."

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Sam uttered, peering at the dim glow that was pooling just outside of the Drunken Crow. There was something to be said about the parts of Gotham that lacked street lamps. But to her chagrin the girl in the passenger seat was shoving the door open. "What could you possibly…"

"I'll just be a minute." Del said quickly as she tossed the Taser into Sam's lap. Pulling a much lighter guitar case from the back seat, the girl let her lungs fill with air. "Lock the doors." She commanded, pulling the deep set hood over her head, letting the shadows conceal her face. Was she sure about this? No. Not really. But this was the last known place of residence her father had for Benjamin "Bird" Larson.

Stepping into that smoke filled pub, all Del could feel was the itch of her fingers and the weight of the guitar pulling on her arm. With unknown faces turning to stare at her, Del forced herself to breathe in the smell of cigarettes and stale beer. Tugging the tip of her hood down, she made a straight shot for the bar, the charms on her boots announcing every step. _Please be here_. She didn't realize it was like a prayer until the dark haired bartender glanced up, giving her a toothy grin that made her insides squirm. "What do we have here?" The second his grubby hand reached out to touch the hood of her coat, she caught him by the wrist.

"Bird. Where can I find him?" She asked, watching that smile hide behind his twisting lips. When his free hand came up, she twisted his hand back, forcing him to crash hard on his elbows right there at the bar, the vibration causing glasses and shots to spill to the floor. It was enough to dispel the soft murmur of the front of the house. "I don't think you heard me well enough."

"Ow, Jesus, what the fuck-"

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON UP THERE?!" At the sound of the that voice bellowing from the walls behind the bar, Del released the man. _He's here_.

"There's—There's a girl up here looking for you, Boss."

"Pay the bitch, and send her on her way! It can't be that damn complicated!"

"Who are you calling a bitch?! _I'll_ kick your ass into the middle of next year." In that short heart hammering silence, she could hear a low hum of hissing and laughing curses. And yet all she could hear was that familiar voice.

"Damn it! get back here already!"

* * *

The second he heard those charms banging together, the whiskey in Jason's mouth went down hard. _Oh Hell no. What the fuck is she doing here?!_ It took everything he had to keep his staring to glance, watching the muscles in her shoulders hitch when she saw him sitting there at the table. Hell, that called for another shot. "Such a loud mouth for a tiny thing." The Old Man crooned, as he chomped down on his cigar, watching the girl shrink against the wall hugging the shadows as the guitar case hung heavily in both hands.

"Watch it, Girly." At Val's words, Jason couldn't help but twist his head, watching her step back until she bumped into the perch that was anything but empty.

"What is it you want, Pretty One?" Jason let his eyes settle back on the cards, letting his free hand slide to his pocket to click off the safety of his glock. Val's lap was empty tonight and the creep was climbing to his feet.

"How do you know she's pretty?" He asked crossing the space. "You can't even see her face." Bird didn't answer; instead he simply raised his head, watching the girl step back. "All talk and no game, eh, Honey?" But no sooner had the man stretched out his arm to reach for her hood, that falcon at her back hissed and screeched, flapping his wings in agitation.

"Go ahead." She spat as the man's hand stilled in the air. "I dare you." Oh, He would've given anything to see that prick's face. "You know what? I don't think he likes you." She said, tilting her head toward the bird. "_I_ don't like you."

"You probably have the face of a dog anyway." Val sneered just as Bird beckoned the girl forward with the crook of his finger. Glancing over his shoulder, Jason could see her shoving her way by the man, making sure to always stay in the cover of the shadows.

"Big words for a man who probably has to pay for his company."

That was enough to make Roach spill his guts, and stranger still…it seemed to make Bird's mouth form the tightest of smiles as his arm reached up into the air summoning the falcon from across the room. "Val, sit down and shut up. She won that round." He said, letting that cranky creature settle on the back of his chair as he lifted his eyes to the hooded girl. "Now, what do you want?" He asked again. But Delilah said nothing as she skirted around the table holding that guitar case out to him.

Bird immediately sat up, letting the case rest on his lap as the dingy room filled with the sound of unhinging latches. For a long moment the man just sat there staring inside the case. "I think it rightfully belongs to you now." She said evenly. Without another word she took a step back, no doubt preparing to make a quick exit when Roach's hand gripped around her wrist.

"Leaving so soon? But you just got here."

"_Roach_." With Bird's warning hanging in the air, the man uncurled his fingers from the girl's arm just as Jason felt his fingers leave the grip of his gun. "Don't come back here." He told her, watching her twist and dash out the door, leaving a strange wave of tension and the sound of clinking metal in her wake. It took a few hands before Bird finally pulled the case off his lap, tossing his cards down as he pried himself up from his chair. "It's Friday night, I do believe its _Fight_ _Night_, Gentlemen. Let's get these drunk asses out of here." No sooner had Jason started to peel himself up, did he find the man eying him. "Think you're ready for the big leagues, JT?"

"Sure."

At first Bird said nothing more as he scraped up the pot and tossed the chips back into their cases. But when that heavy hand came down on his shoulder, Jason stilled. "I don't think you are. But it might be amusing to see you try and prove me wrong." With that he shoved the chip cases in Jason's arms. "Put those up behind the bar will you?"

_What the hell was Pipsqueak doing here? _Was he crazy? Or was Bird protecting her again? Why the hell would he? The guy was Bane's lieutenant after all! Hearing the old man murmur, Jason paused behind the bar. "Don't leave me in suspense, what'd she bring you?" Reminding himself of what he was supposed to be doing, he shoved the cases on the shelf, tilting his head as he heard the guitar case scraping along the floor.

"Your guitar."

* * *

_Wayne Central Station. _The lettering had been eaten away by the elements long ago, but as Jason eyed the fencing that had been erected around it, he couldn't stop that nagging feeling that was pickling the back of his neck. The train station…again. With his boots pressing in the then layer exhaust colored slush, he could see the shadows around him pulling things out of the car. No guns. At least none that he could see. "What are we doing here?" He asked, watching his breath flair up in a thin veil of fog.

"It's the easiest access point to where we're going." The words fell so simply out of Bird's mouth, as he tossed a heavy looking baton over the hood of the car to Val's open hand. No sooner did Jason twist on his feet, did the man go to strike him. He never expected the young man's gloved fingers to reach it first.

"Aw, shit."

Planting a foot in the man's chest he watched him hit the grimy concrete. But then there was that hissing voice behind him. "Amateurs." The second he felt that weight smack him upside his head, Jason couldn't hear a thing. Hell as his body slumped forward he was sure he couldn't even feel anything. With a shrug of his shoulders, Bird let the heavy bar slide from his fingers as he crouched down by Jason's head. "Sorry 'bout this, Kid. But we can't let you see the way in." Jason couldn't so much as utter a word as the weight of a mask flopped on his face. Roach was less than careful when he shoved that black casing over his head, killing any chance he had of see a damn thing. _Oh, fuck_. His only hope was that they wouldn't start to rifle through his pockets.

* * *

"I don't get it, how can someone eat like you eat and look like you look?"

"_Mason_."

"I'm serious! You were chowing down like someone was going to steal it from you."

"Did you see what she did to me when I tried to take a piece of bacon off her plate?!" Mason, Shane, Mai and Sam. God, she missed these people. They were the kind of people that filled these dark streets with booming laughs and lyrical voices. The kind of kids who teased and made their shadows dance along the walls as the slipped and slid on the compacted sleet. They made her feel silly even…normal. "She stabbed that fork right between my fingers! Damn good aim."

Del couldn't help but twist about on the sidewalk. "What are you talking about, Shane? I missed." She all but purred, watching the boy's jaw go slack, summoning a chorus of laughter from the line of bodies along the sidewalk. "It's a shame Chrissy couldn't join us." She added, twisting back as the shadows rose up around them.

"When you're sick, you're sick. But hey, we got _Samantha_ with us now." The boy said, slinging an arm around Sam's shoulders as if he'd always known her. "You've reached your point of no return my little friend."

"Mai! Help!" But no sooner had the girl's silly request cry out into the air did she lift her eyes to the shadows that were all but swallowing them whole. "Del…" She started, watching the slender figure curl her fingers into the chain-link fence. "Where are we?" But as Sam slid out from under Shane's heavy arm, to wince up at the rusted letters, she could feel the air rushing out of her lungs. _Wayne_ _Station_.

There was nothing more than a collective silence now, say for the sound of sneakers and boots as they scuffed through the sleet ridden ground to get a closer look at the bolus building that lingered just out of their reach. "It's huge."

"And empty…" Del whispered, not sure what was causing the ache at the back of her throat. "Been that way since 70's."

"Sure we can climb the fence but—" Mason's words slid into nothing more than soft little clouds as Delilah Wayne shed her hood away, to peel a big brass key from around her neck. "I stand corrected." He murmured, watching the girl's gloved fingers fist around the object before she carefully scaled the fence, paying no mind to the soft rattle of metal and ice as she landed in a crouch on the other side.

"We don't own it anymore…" She said softly, watching them shimmy over one by one. "So if we get caught, run like hell."

* * *

He wasn't sure if he was simply going where the shadows lead him, or if the sound of voices echoing in this place drew him in. Even in the stark moonlight he could make out the shape of their bodies as the teens scattered about, giving low whistles as they tilted their heads to dusty glass ceiling. But as he stood there, blanketed in the darkness just out of reach, he could see that one slender form stepping so carefully through the space, fisting her fingers over that key around her neck as she walked through the flicker of shadows and moonlight, stretching out her fingers to touch the dusty pillars.

"Del?" Only a voice seemed to pull the girl's head from the ceiling and the patches of sky that whistled through the broken panes. "You okay?"

"Yeah…it's just…it's a little strange." Del murmured, holding her hand out to the sleet that was falling to the floor. "Like…I'm walking through someone else's dream—my grandfather's dream." The words fell out of her with a soft shrug. "I hate seeing it like this." Grandfather? And her name was Del? Feeling his weight sag against the wall, he paid no mind to the eyes on his back, instead he watched the girl blow the flecks of sleet out of her gloves as if it were nothing more than fairy dust. Was it strange or ironic that he'd find _Delilah Wayne_ sneaking in to Wayne Station? Gods be good. Gods be good indeed.

It was curiosity that made him hold his position, despite being aware of the restlessness that was building around him. Owls were never patient things—a little creepy, deadly, silent but not patient. He was sure why, but as he watched the silhouettes come together he found his fingers tingling with excitement. It was as if he knew he would be rewarded long before their voices rose, filling the station with a mournful hymn. He could still pick out her voice, not that he ever expected it to be so sultry. Who knew Delilah Wayne was so musically inclined?

As the group slowly slid away from the eerie chant and rolled effortlessly into more popular tunes, the boy found himself smiling as a new shy voice finally joined in. Master wanted a songbird. He was going to get more than that. "I want those two. The girl with the key and the soprano— try to be gentle with them. You break it, you bought it, and one of them is worth millions." Oh, tonight was going to be an easy one.

* * *

He didn't know this smell, musty like earth and water, even a hint of cologne—the expensive shit. Only when his ears began to hear the hum of murmuring voices did he feel the prick of metal at his back. Opening his eyes all he could see was the flicker of fire light on old gray bricks.

"Sleeping Beauty's coming around." For a long moment he could only stare at that white masked face that was peering down at him, but the voice was familiar. Roach.

"Fuck you…" He hissed as he peeled himself up. It was then he realized he'd been laying on something akin to a catwalk high above the ground. He went to place his fingers in his pockets when he found something other than his coat draped across him—a cloak.

"Don't be mad at me, I ain't the one who hit ya."

"You're not going to be sore about that _all_ night, are you?" Another familiar voice in a faceless white mask and dusky green cloak—Bird.

"Feel like I've been hit by a bus." Jason muttered, wincing when he realized his temple was still tender. "What the hell is up with the get up?" He asked, but no sooner had he turned on his heel did he realize that the catwalks that circled the space were filled with white masked faces in green cloaks.

Jason could feel his mouth opening, but the sound of a warring scream forced his eyes to the large pit below them. Under the glare of large plasma screens he could see two teenage boys circling each other, skin covered in bruises, sweat and blood. The pits. "What's the numbers? A purse?" Jason asked, trying to clear the bile from his throat with a jerk of his chin to the screens.

"Odds are on the lower screen. That screen is showing the current bids on the fighters." As if to match the man's words, Jason could see a numbered paddle lifting to the air beside them. Even with the mask and the cloak, Jason could see the familiar tattoos trailing up the beast's arm. _Ubu_. He'd recognize sack of meat anywhere. Not wanting to stare for too long, Jason let his eyes return to the fight below, watching as a boy lunged at his opponent, forcing the body to go still in his arms as blood started to pool at their feet. He only let go when a referee jumped in to yank them apart letting the broken boy crawl out on his hands and knees leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

"They don't usually kill each other." Bird said plainly as he reached out to the holographic keyboards that circled around the railing. "Only challenge fights can end up that way. They have their own ranking system resulting in a champion for males and females. Most people usually place their money on them."

"Isn't the next fight a challenge?" Jason could hardly hear the words; he was too busy watching the victor raise his blood caked hands in the air for the thunderous applause. Gotham's children were fighting one another right under their feet. What kind of world did he just step into?

Watching as the blood was scrapped back into the dirt, making the pit fresh and new again, he found himself staring up at the new faces that had taken up the screen. Looking up at that familiar face, Jason felt his mouth going dry. "So," Bird inquired as he leaned forward on the rail. "Who are you gonna put your money on, Kid?"

"The redhead." Before his thick words could fade from the air they were swallowed by the sound of hoarse laughs.

"The challenger? Challengers hardly ever win."

At that, Jason forced his lips to work themselves into a wiry smirk. "Maybe. But redheads are crazy." He murmured, watching as another familiar child was pried away from her, forcing the girl to turn and yell something back. No, this one would win. She had someone she had to protect—dying wouldn't be an option.

* * *

_I don't have a choice. I have to get her out of here._ Feeling the loose dirt under her feet, Aiden could only take in a sharp breath, letting the sound of her exhale quell the sound the intercom and the wave a voices it wrought.

These people, these blank faces with black holes for eyes, they couldn't smell the blood, they couldn't feel her heart pulsing in her head. She simply eyed the dark haired bitch across the ring before lifting her gaze to that man on the platform. With a nod of his head and clap of his hands, the buzzer rang, sending Jerica running for her, that locket bouncing around her neck.

Tossing her knife into the dirt, she tried to ignore the swirl of voices that echoed around them as she jumped back from the point of Jerica's jabbing blade. "Are you trying to insult me?!" Jerica hissed catching her down the arm with her blade as the girl's fingers gripped her by the arm, twisting her wrist into the same wristlock. What the girl wasn't accounting for was for Jerica to knock her feet from under her. She could see it in the way her irises grew when she hit the ground in a cloud of dust. Landing right on top of her, she could only grin up at the screen, watching her price tag climb ever higher as the body beneath her withered. That was of course until that pointy elbow shot up and slammed into her cheek. "Right after I cut your throat, I think I'll play with Clara before I send her to meet you." She whispered, watching the blood roll down the girl's neck as she pressed the blade into her neck. Only Aiden's sudden smile made her hesitate.

Bending at the abs, Aiden could feel the knife digging deeper into her skin as she planted her head as hard as she could into Jerica's, forcing the girl to rip the knife away as she hooked the girl's legs with her own. All it took was a buck of her body to off throw her weight and roll. Before the girl could put her arms up, Aiden made sure to plant her balled fist in the girl's face, feeling some satisfaction when the soft cartilage of Jerica's nose gave, breaking the bone in the process.

But it was in that moment, she felt something hot and sharp ripping into her side. Jerica had managed to stab her. Unsure if the knife had nicked anything vital, Aiden tumbled back, grabbing at her side as the girl bridged to her feet. "Bet you're wishing you hadn't put that knife down, aren't ya?" Jerica teased, watching the girl's fingers come from her side slick and red. _If she shoved it in far enough I won't have much time. I have to kill her and I have to do it now._

* * *

_Blood. "_AIDEN!" But she never looked up. The noise of the crowd was all but suffocating her panicked cry. Only Sasha's slender arms seemed to root the squirming child to the earth no matter how she kicked and flailed, the woman gripped tighter. "Let me go! Let me go! She can't die!" _Die_. The word forced her own silence, forced her body to go slack right there in Sasha's arms. She had no choice but let her eyes continue to burn, blurring the two bodies together as her eyes coated themselves with tears. Jerica had her from behind, fingers fisted into that brilliant red hair with her knife wielding hand draped around her neck. Any second…she was going to drag it across Aiden's throat like they'd seen her do to the others so many times before.

But as the girl blinked, trying to ignore the itch of the tears that were trickling down her cheeks, she saw something in that screen. Aiden's lips were moving. _Have faith. _Just as she felt her little nails digging into her own palms, her sister jerked her head back, smacking Jerica with the back of her head. With her opponent in a daze, she shoved the girl backward, mashing her into the wall with her body. Only then did she hit the girl with the back of her head again. It was like the entire crowd could hear the girl's head smacking the bricks.

_I can't let you live._ Before Jerica could escape the space, Aiden twisted on her heel, kicking the girl back into the wall. "Why don't you just die!" The second, Jerica's weight slammed into her body, Aiden let herself fold to the ground, pushing that armed hand over the girl's head as they rolled in the dust.

"You first." Aiden hissed, relieved when her groping fingers found the handle of her blade still sticking out of the dirt. There was a moment she could see the surprise in Jerica's big dark eyes as Aiden came out on top gripping that knife like an icepick. "I'm sorry. My sister has to live!" She didn't recognize the sound that was ripping out of her when the knife went down, cutting through flesh and piercing through bone, assaulting the air with the smell of blood. _I'm_ _sorry_. Was it a scream? Or a wail? Was it something to mask the sound of the girl beneath her gasping for air? She wasn't sure, she just continued to let the knife plunge until it slipped from her blood slicked hands.

Under the haze of thunderous applause, the girl slid from the crumpled body beneath her. She didn't revel in the moment, she didn't lift her arms in victory. She simply reached down and yanked the locket from the dead girl's neck.

Only when someone grabbed her by the arm, did she seem to break from the heavy spell that was all but suffocating her. But as she tried to rip her arm away, the retainers reached for her again, forcing her head to twist to the screen. _High bid: $2,000,000. Sold. Someone bought me._ "Aiden!" Twisting in their hold, she reached for the tiny girl, pressing the bloody chain into her fingers as her hands clasped her own.

"Do as Sasha says. Do as she says!" She cried, watching the child's face crumble in an open sob. "I'll find my way back to you!" She shot out, feeling her feet dig into the dirt as they began to drag her back. "I promise!"

"NO! YOU CAN'T GO-"

"Clara!" Watching Sasha reach out to grab the girl and wrap that locket around her neck, she could only mouth the words as she was pulled further and further away. _I love you. _Clara seemed to go limp in Sasha's arms, pressing her hands to her heart like their parents had always done. It wasn't supposed to happen this way…

* * *

"The new champion." Hearing that voice, Aiden yanked herself from the grip that had pulled her across the ring. "Aiden, I really thought you'd be happier. We'll have the surgeon look at those wounds before you go." Happy? What part of this was happy? She couldn't even look at the giant lug of a man that was standing at the Collector's side; instead the girl just lifted her chin.

"You're an asshole." She hissed. "But I'll be getting away from _you_, so there's that."

"Always looking for the silver lining. That's why I like you, Aiden."

"WIAT! Where are you taking her?!" Hearing Sasha's panicked voice proceeded by Clara's piercing shriek, Aiden whirled around watching the retainers rip her sister from Sasha's arms.

"What are you doing with my sister?!" The girl roared at the masked man, irritated by how unmoving the faceless wonder was. "You promised-"

"Because she's your sister, she's elevated in value. She's off to the auction block." The man said lightly, watching the girl's face crease into a perfect scowl. "Don't make such faces. Remember I've created the person you are, Young Lady."

" If I _ever_ get the chance to rip your heart out, I hope you remember that you had a hand in making me this way." Feeling the weight of an awfully large hand, Aiden glanced up at the behemoth of a man. "You bought me, huh?"

"Yes." Without another word the man started walking, pausing only when she didn't follow.

"Got a name?" She asked, picking at the dried blood on her hands.

"The call me Ubu."

"Who's they?"

"You'll see soon enough."

* * *

"Looks like you were right." Bird murmured, ignoring the breathy sighs of regret behind him as he printed out their tickets. "And so was I."

"Told you." Jason murmured, watching the girl limp out of the pit in Ubu's shadow. "Redheads are crazy." And once the league of assassins was done with her…she'd be even harder to kill.

* * *

"Hey! What the hell are you kids doing in here?!" At the sound of that booming voice cutting through their chatter, Del felt her fingers ripping up her hood just as the beam of a flashlight cut through the hazy darkness. It was enough to make them all scatter across the platform. "Be advised, we have some trespassers." Snatching Sam by the arm of her coat, she shoved her hood over her head and proceeded to drag the girl toward the exit, knowing full well the other three were already making their escape.

"Jesus! You guys do this shit a lot or what?!" Her words only seemed to summon and echo of laughter out of the bodies ahead of them, but the girl who was pulling her around was yanking her in another direction as the sound of keys jingling on a utility belt drew closer. Under Del's direction they stormed up the winding iron stairs, half aware of the officer's yelling and the bouncing beam of his flashlight below their feet. Crashing into a door with the sound of heavy shoes pounding up the same stairs, Sam could see Del ripping the key from her neck and shoving it into the locked door.

"C'mon, Baby, C'mon." The key took some wiggling to cut through the dust and the rust that had planted itself inside old lock, but it went in just the same. Yanking the key from the knob, Del locked it back as she shoved Sam out into the sleet covered world, slamming the door in the officer's face as she all but threw herself through the threshold. The door was still rattling when the girls skirted around the edges of the roof.

"Now what?" Sam asked, trying to ignore the nauseous waves that rose up from her toes as she looked down to the ground. If she squinted hard enough she could see those three shadows scaling back over the fence, sending their whoops of triumph into the air.

"We jump." The girl said, eyeing the building just next door.

"What?! Are you crazy?!" Sam cried, watching the girl back up only to run at the edge. It was too late, Delilah's body was already sailing through the air. "Never mind, don't answer that!"

"You can do it! Run as fast as you can!"

Sam had no choice but to try when the door behind her finally burst open. "Stop right there!" _Oh, hell no! Uncle Jim will kill me if we get busted! _Before her brain could run through all the scenarios that involved her body falling between the buildings and breaking her bones, Sam ran for it, feeling her hood tugging back as someone tried to nab it with their fingers. Within a breath the ground was gone. With her foot snagging the lip of the roof, she hit the building with a tumble, feeling the gravel bite into her cheek as she spilled to the ground.

But as Del bent down with her hand out, something else caught the girl's eye—something black and quick as a flickering shadow. As she was yanked to her feet, Sam could feel the bile rolling up her throat as she stared at the ominous forms that lingered just on the other side of the roof. "Um…D?" The girl breathed, not able to strip her gaze from the ruby eyed figures. "I-I think…we're in trouble."

With Sam's words all but floating up into the patchy gray sky, Del could feel her skin prickling on the back of her neck as she turned her head about. _Assassins_. With the initial thought all but rolling from her head down her spine, Delilah rose to her feet, shoving Samantha behind her in the process. "Always gotta be right, don't you?"

_One. Two. Three. Four. Five. _One would take a step forward, and Del found herself taking a step to the side, shoving Sam's body at the same time. "Hold it right there! I want to see your hands in the air, all of you!" Hearing the sound of a gun scraping its way out of its holster, Del was twisting, but no sooner could she put her eyes on the officer who'd drawn his weapon from across that small gap, could she feel the words ripping her mouth.

"No! Don't!" But it was too late; the flash of the muzzle hit the darkness like a firecracker, shattering the silence with a bang. But as Delilah hear the sound of the bullet whizzing by her head, she realized that something wet and foul had splattered the side of her coat as a dark body zipped right by them, leaping over the gap as if it were nothing. Staring at the rancid stain that smelled more of rotten flesh than fresh blood, Del could feel her heart dropping to her feet as the other bodies finally stepped forward revealing themselves a little at a time. Clawed hands and feet, masks of an owl-these weren't the assassins that she was familiar with. But they filled the night with the gurgle of blood and the sound of ripping flesh just the same.

"Step onto the ledge."

"But-but-"

"Just do it." Del ordered, eyeing the dumpster below as her fingers groped the inside of her pockets. A couple smoke bombs, a Taser and a grappling gun. Not much. Her suit was hiding just under her coat, her cowl was mashed into her pocket, but it was no use to her now. _Get Sam to safety first. _

Listening to Sam's shoes scrape along the lip of the building, Del fisted her fingers around the smoke bombs. Jabbing the girl with her elbow she could hear that short scream tearing out of Sam's mouth as the night suddenly filled with plumes of black smoke. They wouldn't see them falling. And to keep their cover, Del only continued to fill the alley with smoke as she all but rolled out of the dumpster, yanking Sam with her.

"If we can make them follow you, I can pick them off one at a time." Delilah said forcing herself to take a breath as they darted through the alley to the the side door of an apartment building.

"How-how?!"

But Delilah was already stripping away her coat, ripping the chain of the key from her hair and shoving it at the girl. "Make sure they can see it. Run toward Mama Lou's, toward your car, have your keys in your hand." Even as Samantha tugged Delilah's coat over her own, All Del could see was the pale glow of terror on her face. "I'll be right behind you." She said pulling the newly fitted cowl over her head. It was like slipping back into a glove. _"Link On."_ _The Microphone. Dad knew all along_.

* * *

_Don't engage them until you have back up._ Her father's warning as all but forgotten the moment she could see Sam's body darting from the lobby, the sound of that heavy key clinking against the zipper of echoing down the sidewalk. That sound, it was almost like a call to attract these strangers, but it wouldn't be the only thing shed from the darkness. _Sorry, Dad._

Leaping from the building, she landed on her first victim's shoulders, dropping her weight as she twisted, pressing his neck with her thighs. His struggle to dislodge her only made her squeeze tighter. Any second now he'd drop from the lamp post like a rock. But instead of the head lulling back signaling a blackout—something snapped. The kneejerk reaction was to let go, letting the body fall to the pavement in a heap. _No. No! NO!_ The ground couldn't come fast enough as she hit the pavement, feeling the air stalling in her chest as she moved to rip the mask from the body. _Tell me I didn't just kill him! _But as her gloved fingers peeled away the fabric, not even the cowl could mask the rancid odor trapped just beneath. The flesh, she realized, was peeling away with the hood. "What the hell _are_ you?" She queried, swallowing the knot that the sour smell summoned to her throat as she ripped the cowl away completely. "You're…_dead_." Popping her head up, she could still see Sam's form growing smaller and smaller with every stride. _There's more of these things._ Four of them.

"_Anyone nearby? I think I need a hand." _ No sooner had the words fallen from her lips did she hear the sound of something heavy scuffing on the concrete. "Okay, not dead." She breathed twisting back to see the body pulling itself off the sidewalk. _"Scratch that, I'll take the first sword or flamethrower I can get my hands on! Let's make it a big one! "_

* * *

There was something about this—about sitting out here on the window ledge with his father's shadow looming beside him that made things seem almost normal. "So…" _Uh-oh, here we go._ "Have you or haven't you?" Even as Tim let his eyes disappear into his cup, he could still see that man's mischievous smirk in the glow of the apartment. He wasn't sure if it was the steam warming his face or the blood running to his cheeks, but when he heard that voice stretching across the communicator, his embarrassment was forgotten. _She's not on duty tonight. Swords? Flamethrowers? What the—_

"_I'm on my way." _

"Her?"

"Yeah, and it shouldn't be. Gotta go." He could barely hear his father's warning for caution as he dove off the building and into the darkness. _"What's the situation?"_

"_Five dead assailants." _

"_**Dead?! What the hell is going on!?" **_

_Dad. "Don't get your underwear in a wad, Bats. They don't stay dead and __**that's**__ the problem! I don't know what these things are! They're deadly, creepy and starting to become a pain in my ass! I know that much!" _ The moment of silence in her ear only told her one thing—her father was making a trip to the car. It gave her enough time to focus on ducking under the assassin's clawed strikes fending off his blades with the armor plating on her arms. _You forgot about his feet. _No sooner had the thought raced through her head did she feel a knife catching into the leg of her suit. _Blades on the feet too?_ Her legs came out from under her as her feet were swept off the sidewalk. _He's going to dive on you or bend down to stab you. He could use his foot or his hands to do it, what are you going to do? _There was only one solution._ Kill him. _As her attacker lunged, the young bat reacted, latching onto his arms ash she planted both feet as hard as she could into his gut. With a tumble back, his body went sailing into the wall behind her. She was on her feet before it could even collect itself. But even in this darkness she could see that stained yellow light glinting of the blades as he made a move to rise. Only she wasn't about to let that happen.

"Say goodnight!" With the sound of her belligerent cry echoing through the darkness, Batgirl thrust out with her boot, driving that fragile skull into the wall. _I killed something…I… _ She couldn't recognize the form beneath her, even though the smell was all but making her eyes water and her stomach churn, she couldn't stop putting her foot into body at her feet. _It was already dead! It can't get back up! _

Only when the sound of her ragged breathes filled her ears did the girl peel herself away from the wall. _Four_. "What the…" She didn't even hear his boots on the pavement.

"They're not alive."

And yet as she watched him crouch down by what was left of the remains, there was something in his face…something doubtful. "Are you absolutely sure?" He asked, lips twitching into a grimace.

"You didn't see what I saw! I snapped his neck! And he still-"

" You snapped his neck?! Oh, that look. Even with the mask she could still see the creases fading around his eyes. She could still see his mouth growing slack.

"I didn't mean to!" But the bat was already letting the teeth of the grappling hook sink into the nearest building. "I don't have time for this! There's more of those things, and they're chasing Sam!" She snapped letting the grappling gun rip her off the sidewalk. He'd never looked at her like that before…like he was disappointed and so unsure. Didn't he believe her? Didn't he trust her? _God, shut up, Brain! Shut up! Gotta find Sam!_

* * *

_I'm too fat for this shit!_ But somehow the need to get away overrode the ache that was crawling up her legs and the cold burn of the air that made the inside of her throat dry. But it didn't stop the scream from tearing its way out of her when she was snatched up from behind. She could scream all she wanted, but it only made her own lips tingle as the sound was muffled into the glove over her lip. The fight to struggle was soon forfeited the moment her captor took to the air. No one in this city would hear her now. And falling from this height? Broken bones would be the least of her worries.

She'd never been so scared and so relieved in her life to hear that strange guttural cry reaching out to them across the rooftops. She didn't even see the boy pounce from the shadows - she saw the glint of his sword. Before she could realize what had splattered across her face, she found herself falling. Not even the feel of someone's arms circling around her could stop the feel of her body smashing into the roof below. Even if she couldn't feel all of it, tumbling end over end she knew one thing—this shit was gonna hurt later. Sam couldn't tell if she was getting glimpses of a colorless sky or if a cape had tangled itself around her in the spill, but as she laid there willing that cold air into her lungs, she could make out the points of those long ears. "You suck…" The girl groaned wincing when her busted lips forgot that smiling might hurt. But as she watched Batgirl stagger to her, Sam could see her words rising in the air in small wisps. "It shorted."

"It's not as heavy as the other one…" The little bat uttered, reaching out to her with only one hand, leaving the other trapped at her side. "But yeah… it's dead. My left arm locked up and then…"

"…We hit the roof." Never had she been so tempted to tell the girl 'I told you so'. But as she worked herself up, she could only feel the knot building in her throat. "I hope you're right handed." Sam whispered, not even bothering to wipe the gravel off her cheek as the bat whipped around. The figures sprang, scattering to the air. _ They're surrounding us._ But just as the thought began to barrel its way through her, they descended. She didn't even see Batgirl creating slack in the line of her grappling gun. But the moment Sam lurched back from a set of snatching hands, Batgirl twisted, sending that cord through the air and around the assailant's neck.

"You're pissing me off!" She couldn't say what made her think of using the grappling gun this way. She couldn't imagine what forced her fingers to pull the trigger knowing just what it would do. The device would try to rewind the line. It would snap his neck like a twig when the coils around his neck tightened. But as that body fell to the ground in a heap, the girl only knew one thing. It wasn't dead. Not yet. Not completely.

"Didn't know you had it in you…_Sister_." _Damian_.

There was something about watching this pair that made Samantha Cleary realize just how little she knew. That scream, the way Robin moved flipping and twisting- filling the air with rancid smell of rot and old blood. She wasn't quite sure when her knees gave out, or when someone else swooped in to grab her. But even if she was pressed into the armor of someone's suit, she could still see them pressing their backs together. Watching Batgirl reach around and help herself to her brother's shorter sword it dawned on her—the Wayne children were deadly.

* * *

"You know what?" Batgirl asked, wincing as a set of clawed blades scraped down her sword as she held up her good arm to fend them off. "I don't think I'll put you in the pond." She said shoving her attacker back, ducking when Robin twisted to change the direction of his sword. He jabbed the creature right in the chest. "I'd cremate you and put your ashes in the gas tank of the bat-mobile."

"_Tch_." Turning his head he could see the point of his sister's sword sticking out the back of the opponent he'd left behind to make his move. Strange, he never thought she'd pair with him this well. "I'd mix your ashes with the bat excrement."

_Well, at least I made it to the cave. _Just as the girl went to pull the sword free, the rooftop filled with plumes of thick black smoke. If she couldn't see them then they couldn't see her. Maybe that's exactly what her father wanted as he hit her from the side and swept into the darkness.

* * *

"_The little plate inside the locket with the poem comes out. There's a tiny little thing, it looks like a black on and off switch behind it. All you have to do is flip it."_ Clara couldn't help but pull the chain tight around her neck as she was left there on that pedestal. In the background she could hear that computerized voice echoing over the intercom describing a blonde haired blue eyed child. _Me_. What could all these white masked faces see? Could they see the fear on her face? Could they see the sweat beading on her hairline? What about the tackiness of her lashes? Could they see that too? With each wave of a paddle, the child could only swallow, listening to the number grow higher and higher. _Be a big girl, you have to be a big girl. _At the shrill call of a buzzer the girl felt ever muscle in her body go rigid. _"Sold: High bid 7 Million."_ There was something about the desperate amount that made the girl's skin grow cold. _Be a big girl. _But as the retainers came forward to pull her from the small stage, she couldn't stop the tears from falling.

"Clara you're ruining your pretty face." At the sound of that familiar voice, Clara jerked her head up, blinking through the blur of her tears to stare in the Collector's direction. But he wasn't the one who stepped forward and grabbed her by the chin, tilting her head this way and that in the harsh florescent lights. Another mask. Another green cloak.

"A little banged up. I expected better than that." At the man's words the Collector stepped forward yanking the girl by her face as he tilted the faint bruises to the light.

"We'll compensate for that."

"See that you do." No sooner had the strange new voice touch the air, did she realize that one of the retainers had seized her by the arm. Before the girl could so much as wriggle her way free something hot and sharp jabbed her in the neck. Only when the world began to blur could she see the syringe dangling in those gloved fingers. "Take her to the boat if you please."

"Another one…" At the sound of the soft lamenting voice, Clara could feel the world start to come back to her a little at time. "This is the youngest one yet." Feeling a hand in her hair the child's lungs all but froze as she forced her eyes closed. She thought to panic feeling her body being scooped up, but she could only continue to play possum, letting her head lull on a wide shoulder as the winter wind wrapped around her.

"You've prepared her room?"

"Yes, Sir, just like you asked."

Daring to peer through the sliver of her eye lashes, she could see nothing but a pale blue dusky sky melting into the sea. No towers. No complexes. No neon signs and plumes of ash and smoke, just a dying night and the pale caps of a restless sea. _Where am I? _ Nothing was familiar. Not the warmth of the halls or the strange sound of their voices. "We'll let her rest for a while longer." Laid on a strange bed, the girl strained to listen to the sound of their shoes on the hardwood floor. The moment she heard that door latch behind them, she rolled off the bed, fingers prying at the locket. Just as Sasha said, there was a small black switch.

"Please work. _Please_." She flicked it, feeling something inside hum to life in her hands. Now all she had to do was wait. But what did she do until then? Sliding to the door the girl reached for the knob, turning it slowly in her hands. It didn't go far. _Locked_. Moving to the windows, she felt her breath hiss out. _Locked_. _I'm trapped._

* * *

"Even their bones were decomposing. That's why their necks snapped so easy."

"God, I can't believe you brought one of them back here." Sam groaned, shoving her stool from her table back to the Del who was perched on a table, flexing the new sleeve of her suit. "Better?"

"Better. So much for just testing it."

"Hey it's been an eventful night. Breaking and entering. Chased by cops. Jumping across buildings. Getting _pushed_ off a building."

"Sorry. Spur of the moment plan. Didn't have time to share."

"Into a dumpster I might add! Played decoy, got chased by creepy assassins. Got picked up by creepy assassins and dropped in midair. Crash landed on another roof." At that the girl crumbled in her stool. "But hey! At least we figured out where the short in your suit was coming from!"

"There is that." Del murmured, watching the girl slide back to the other table. "You sure you're okay."

"Dead cop. Dead assassins. Sword fights." The girl shrugged. "Just way out of my element." She said with a sigh as she leaned on the table. "How in the world did he learn to fight like that? I mean he's ten, right?"

Peeling her eyes from her father's back as he hovered over the strange body, she let her gaze rest on that black haired brother of hers, watching him leap up and strike the strange orbs that zipped around him. "Yeah…he's ten. He was trained by assassins that's why he moves that way. What are those things you made him?"

"Training orbs…they attack and you and you beat the crap out them, I'm trying to see how durable they are—wait…assassins?!" Sam looked from the boy back to Del. "Are you telling me I've been teasing an assassin this entire time?! That he's an assassin?!"

"Why do you think I call him 'Ninja Boy'?"

"That's just great!"

"You're of use to me." Damian said suddenly as his last gray orb floated to the floor. "So you're safe. For now."

"Please tell me he's joking." Sam whined, wincing as the sound of a siren filled the cave, forcing Batman to lift his head from his samples, and sending Damian flying over the platform to get to the computer.

"It's the tracking device I gave Sasha Bowman. She activated it." Watching the boy's fingers fly over the keyboard, she could see him trying pin down the location. But in the stark glow of the monitor, she could see Damian's face souring. "Something's blocking my signal."

She wasn't sure what pulled her from the stool, or for that matter, what gave her the nerve to pull Damian from the keyboard. She could only hear the boy's boots scuffing against the floor as Delilah grabbed her brother back. "You may be good, but she's better."

"Hey, Bats, did you know you had a hitchhiker on your system?" Sam called suddenly, pulling the man closer to the computer with her words. It certainly wasn't Barb. "Signature C-A-S-S?"

"Friendly."

"Yeah. I got that when they started pulling the garbage from the proxy signals for me." As the girl let a map take up the monitor she couldn't help but grin at that glowing beacon. "Bingo. So…what's Sasha Bowman doing in South Carolina?" But as the girl turned about she saw nothing but a billowing cape blazing a path to the Batwing. Without so much as a word, Del followed suit, slipping that cowl over her head once more. Sam half expected the Bat to turn on her and tell her she'd done enough for one night, but he didn't stop her. He didn't stop either of his children.

* * *

There was something achingly familiar about this place. In the dying darkness, the giant antebellum house stood out like a beacon along the coastline. _I know this place_. And the way Batman moved he knew it too. The thought only made her stomach roll. Sasha Bowman was here somewhere.

Following her father's footsteps along the ledge of the second floor she ducked into the faintly lit room without a sound. Watching Beau Devereux jerk upright in his chair slinging his coffee cup and his laptop to the floor, Del found herself stretching her arm out to stop Damian from advancing on him any further. "Son of a bitch!" The man said with a start. "I take it none of you care for the front door like normal people?"

"The girl. Where is she?" Batman snapped, watching Batgirl bend down and retrieve the computer off the floor as his fingers fisted in the man's shirt.

"It's a bidding site…"

"For people! Children! You don't deserve the air you breathe!" But as the boy drew his sword Beau Devereux held up his hands.

"It's not what you think. Just simmer down." He said breathlessly. "I think you need to follow me."

Del wasn't sure what she expected as her father turned the man loose and followed him through the empty halls. Every part of her wanted to linger here, let her eyes rest on the familiar faces on the walls or the curious nooks and corners that seemed to come from memory. But her uncle was stopping at a door, fishing in his pocket for a key. "I've been buying girls from them for years." He said last. "She's the youngest one I've been able to save." Before either man could step across the threshold, Robin darted in first, pausing when he saw a blonde haired little girl sitting in the middle of the bed instead of Sasha Bowman.

"Sasha said you'd come."

"So you lock them in?" Del couldn't believe the words had even come out of her mouth. But the man only sighed, letting those hazel eyes rest on her.

"The very first girl I ever brought here was so panicked that she threw herself out the window in an attempt to free herself. She'll be in a wheel chair for the rest of her life." He said with a shake of his head. "It only stays this way until the drugs they give them for transport wear off and I can explain what's going on."

"Why not go to the police?"

"You think you'd have to do what you do if the GCPD did their jobs?" Not giving the man an answer the girl cut around him, unprepared to see that familiar blonde haired child.

"It's _you_!"

"Are you hurt? Where's your sister?" At the questioning the child slid from the bed, stilling when she spied another pointy eared shadow standing at the door.

"Sold." The word felt so strange falling off her tongue. "Sasha's locket got taken away and when she told Aiden that Robin had made it into a tracking device for her, Aiden had to…" Watching her pale blue eyes dart to her socked feet, Del was sure she could feel the child swallowing too. "She had to defeat the champion fighter to get it back. Groups come in all the time to buy fighters. They usually wait to buy the champions. I guess they want to make sure they can hold the title. But they didn't wait this time. They bought her right after. I was supposed to turn it on while I was still at Nine Circles, but the Collector threw me to the auction block. I was bought."

"And Sasha?" Robin asked impatiently.

"Still there…" The girl whispered, watching Batgirl crouch down in front of her. "Nothing happened like it was supposed to. I don't…I don't know what to do now." But as the lament all but faded from the air, the child stared down at the girl's open glove.

"Come with me. I think there's someone you need to meet." Even now, she could feel the girl stumbling beside her, as if the drug induced haze hadn't completely faded. Watching her uncle crouch down, she paused. "Clara, this is Beau Devereux. He's the man who—"

"You bought me. Didn't you?"

"I did." He said quietly. "And I'll make a deal with you. I'll help you find your sister, but you have to tell them everything you know about Nine Circles."

Clara looked up at the long eared bat beside her. "You trust him?"

"Strangely enough."

"You're going to tell them everything _you_ know, _right_?"

"Yes. Now do we have a deal?" He asked, holding out his empty hand.

"Okay…" Watching her small fingers all but disappear in his grip, Batgirl could see the child taking a breath. "You get weird and I'm calling them."

"Fair enough." The man said, pulling himself up. "Why don't we have a seat in the kitchen, I think there's a lot to discuss."

* * *

It took some time for the child to unfurl her entire tale, recounting the months since their father's car accident and how Nine Circles had nabbed them right out of the group home they lived in. She left nothing out including how many had died at her sister's hand, and why. Only when Clara had grown comfortable enough to explore the house with the housekeeper, did she leave the bats and bird sitting with Beau Devereux.

"How did _you_ fall into their market?"

Del could see the man's fingers drumming on his half empty coffee cup, biting his lip as he worked his words in his head. "Twelve years ago I got a random e-mail. Had nothing in it but a link to this site…" With that he turned his laptop toward them. But just as she thought the man might continue speaking, his gaze slipped to her. "Your picture was listed on it, Little Bit." Her words were getting stuck in her mouth. Her father's face was slack. "You know this house a little too well." He told the man, turning his gaze back to the masked girl. "And most people don't pay _that_ much attention to other people's photographs. _And_ you're asking about Nine Circles…" He stopped and shrugged.

"You are the Dragon Lady's son." Batman muttered.

"That I am."

"I was bought in advance…that's what—"

"By me. I'm the one who made that bid."

* * *

**A/N** \- Ahhh! So much going on. I'll admit it, this chapter drove me crazy. But now you can see what Jason's getting himself into. If you're still wondering about Jack Drake and that promise with Dick, don't worry that get's covered soon and I'll clean up any loose threads as well. It's chapters like these that make me want to stick with the M rating, but maybe I'm paranoid. Lots of Dickybird, Jason and Tim in the next chapter. Like I said lots of layering for things that will also take place in the sequel. **Next chapter: Broken Birds Part 3**

**Update-** I know there were a lot of typos in this one. Eeep! I apologize! I'm adjusting them I swear! I rushed this one a bit.


	31. Broken Birds: Part 3

**AN: Sorry about the wait! I had some things come up that made it hard to find the time to write but it's here now, and wow is it long! It just had to end at a particular point. (You'll see!) I know it's been a while but here's my promise to you, it will have a proper ending no matter what. There's a bit of all the boys in this one. **

* * *

"Paige. Paige it's late, c'mon now."

"No."

I don't know what it is about the rawness of my mother's voice that peels my eyes open, but before I can make sense of the shadows and shapes of the room the door swings open, leaving shards of light across the floor.

"Can't you at least consider—"

"No, Uncle Beau. I can't." My mother's form seemed to spring toward my bed, ripping back my sheets so fast it made everything inside me jump. "C'mon, Baby, we have to go." I didn't know what to do but cling to her as she peeled me up, her arms wrapping so tight around me I was sure I'd never breathe again. "We can't stay here as long as that man is under Gigi's roof."

Uncle Beau seemed to shorten with sigh as he reached over to peel a blanket off the chair behind him. "You've met him before. I know he's a little…off." He said gently, tucking the blanket around me. But when Mama only shook her head, Uncle Beau spoke again, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "What changed?"

"I know who he is now."

"So do I."

"No you don't!" Mama cried, stilling her hand on my head as my cheek rested into her shoulder. "He's—he's not what you think." The light in the hall was so blinding I had no choice but to bury my head into the overhang of the blanket until Uncle Beau grabbed Mom's shoulder. "What are you not telling me? What do you know?"

"I can't—"

"Paige!"

"I'm sorry, I can't. I-I have to get her out of here." Without another word, Mama fled down the hall, trying to balance my weight in her arms as she rushed down the stairs.

"Where we going, Mama?"

"Home. We're going home."

"Paige René, stop this foolishness!" That heavy command all but froze my mother's fingers to the door. "_Why_? Tell me why?" I couldn't help but wince at that willow of a shape that was all but floating down the stairs. "The offer was a gift. It could save that baby's life! Why can't you see that?!"

"He didn't tell you about the side effects did he? What it could do to her? Oh, Gigi, how do you even know that man?!" My mother's words were enough to stop the dragon from advancing. She just paused there in that faint light looking more like a frail little old lady rather than the dragon everyone tiptoed around.

"That's too long and old of a history for anyone's ears." The sound of the door latch giving under my mother's hand seemed to swallow foyer. "Do you know what I've gone through to ask him such a thing?!" Gigi cried, paying no mind to the hum of the sea just outside her door.

"It doesn't matter." Mama whispered. "I won't accept the offer."

* * *

Delilah was still untangling herself from the tendrils of her dreaming when the shadows began to take shape. The more the darkness ate away at the memories of that alabaster house, the more aware she became of the pain that was buzzing through her knobby joints. _What offer, Mama? _With the sound of the sea still whispering in her ears, the girl let her head lull to the floor watching the soft pale glow of the moon reveal the hidden contours of the world around her. _One. Two. Steady now. _Wait…one of the shadows didn't belong.

"That was graceful."

Pressing her hands to the floor, she could feel her pulse coming alive as the shadow unfurled from the windowsill, bringing with it the soft flecks of melting sleet and smell of the briny sea. _Jax never alerted me! Where's Jax?!_ But before she could even utter a sound, let alone scramble from the twisted sheets, a cold hand knotted in the front of her shirt, hoisting her from the floor just high enough to smack her into the bedframe.

"What the fuck were you doing there tonight?!" _Jason_. But the words only fled with her knocked breath. The feel of the bedpost mashing into her spine was enough make her eyes water as she stumbled to find her feet. Her weight seemed to be hanging in his cold hard hands. "Answer me!"

With the balls of her feet finally meeting the chilly floor, Del forced herself to blink the wetness away, letting the blurry shape of his creased face take shape. "Look at you trying to command me like you're my dad or something. Who the hell do you think you're talking to?!" She snapped wringing from his grip. The daze was all but spent now leaving her raw, cheapened and cheated out of sleep.

"I'm _nothing_ like him!"

"_Clearly_."

_Irritating little_—He wasn't sure what drew him to his feet. Was it the flash of anger or that snotty bite in her voice? He couldn't let her slip to the darkness. He couldn't let her disappear to a place where he wouldn't be able to reach her. So he grabbed for her, wrapping his hand around her wrist just as she turned to flee for the darker corners of her room, or worse…some place where the light could touch.

The bones of her wrist seemed so slender in his fingers. So frail—breakable—just like the rest of her. Okay, maybe that was only half accurate. Those pointy knuckles were anything but delicate. He hadn't expected her to ball her fist and swing any more than she expected him to knock her legs out from under her. He could see those pale blue eyes widening as his hands shot out, fisting in her shirt before her body could hit the floor. Between them those ragged exhales plumed and faded. "What were you doing there?" He asked, mashing his teeth to keep his voice from rising as he let her flop to the floor.

"Funny." She spat, working herself back up to her feet, trying to ignore the hum of anger in the air. Jason was permanently angry…but this? "That's what I should be asking _you_." But as she tilted her head up at him, all she found were the dark creases of his face and glimmer of his eyes, eyes that were looking blacker than blue. With the feel of flurries skirting across her bare feet, Delilah let loose an exasperated breath. "Bird's my uncle…" She whispered, watching the snow flake at her feet slowly melt into a nothing but a drop of water.

"What?"

"Benjamin 'Bird' Larson is my mother's older brother." She said, not sure why she felt an unsteady laugh bubbling in the back of her throat. "God, I'm related to Bane's lieutenant."

"Did you know that your uncle's involved in Nine Circles?" The soft hysterical laugh died right there, leaving in its wake a face absent of color and that deer eyed stare. Of course she didn't know. She was still so innocent—still untainted. How long before Gotham killed everything inside her? How long before it hollowed out her soul?

"Are-Are you sure?"

"He took me there with some of his pals." Jason murmured. "Lovely bunch. I only want to kill them once or twice a night."

"You've been there? Actually been _inside_?!"

"I really hate repeating myself." No sooner had the words clouded the air, did the girl dig her fingers into his coat, grabbing him as if she were holding on for dear life.

"Jase, I need you to take me there." Who was making the commands now?

"How about…_'no'_? I like no."

"_Jason_."

"It doesn't work like that, Pipsqueak. I don't know the way in. They're at least half smart- or Bird is, he doesn't trust me enough. Not yet." He said, prying her dagger like fingers from his coat. But no matter how she tugged, he wouldn't let her hands slide from his grip. He'd know the feel of her hands anywhere now. "I can't have you getting in my way."

"How the hell was I in your way?! It's not like I knew you were going to be there! You're the stalker, remember?!"

"Damn it Del!" She could feel her breath hitching as he shoved her back, letting her scarred palms slide through his fingers. She half expected to feel the corners of the bedpost stab her in the back, and yet all she could focus on was the feel of Jason's cold fingers gripping and uncoiling in her tangled hair. "I almost blew Val's brains out on account of you." He murmured, as the weight of his body pressed their shadows closer. "Don't make me do something we'll both regret."

"Val…is that the sleaze-ball that said I had the face of a dog?"

"Valentino Carbone. That'd be the one. Guess who the sleaze-ball works for?"

"Bird…" She muttered dubiously.

"Yes, but who else?"

"Falcone?"

"Little girl deserves a cookie." Jason mumbled. "And the balding giggler—who happens to be a gun runner, guess who his main squeeze is."

"Other than you?"

"Don't be a shit. That's my job."

"Maroni? You're kidding me. You mean to tell me that men from both sides are answering to _Bird_?!"

_And if they were to find out it was you who showed up tonight…game over. _Working his hand from the tangles he created, he let that callused hand cup the point of her chin, lifting that fiery gaze higher. "Now do you get it?" He asked, watching those long dark lashes flick closed at his words. Her hands were pressed flat into his chest, a weak defense…or maybe it was a way to feel the words come life. "I don't know if Bird can protect you from the Roman _and_ the Boss."

She could feel his weight all but resting against her. She could feel his chest bowing when her own fell, filling this strange darkness with delicate clouded breaths as flurries wandered in from the open window. The feel of his exhales brushing against her skin only made her want to run for the darkness and yet he wouldn't let her go, not when she felt his head come to lean against hers. "Don't go back there." She wasn't sure what it was that made the chill roll down her spine, forcing her to jolt against him. Cold air, warm breath—breath that smelled of whisky and yet he was drawing her closer.

"You promised…"

"I lie-"

"Been drinking haven't you?" Four words, that's all it took to break this frail reverie and send him backward, filling the air with a strangled kind of laugh. It was the sort of sound that made the hair on her arms stand on end. Was he really that close to crumbling? "Jason, you can't—"

"Excuse me for not being able to suppress my emotions! I needed something to take the edge off! I'm not like _him_, remember?!"

"That's not—"

"You don't know what I saw! " He snapped, frowning when his voice rose a notch too high. "I watched a girl your age fight for her life. I watched her stab her opponent again and again while she wailed like a banshee." He uttered, watching Del's arms droop to her sides. "Kids are fighting kids while people bet on them like they're betting on dogs."

"This girl…was she a redhead? The same one from the bus accident?"

"How the hell-"

"We were able to track her little sister after she was sold-"

"The blonde? Is she safe?" Watching the girl nod, Jason blew out a breath, more than aware of the sour aftertaste of whiskey on his tongue. But as he turned for the open window, her words all but stilled him.

"Jase…I hate to ask…and I'll even call in the favor, but how deep in this can you get? I want to see the circles broken."

"Save it, Baby Bat." He said with a grunt as he hopped on the windowsill. "I plan on it. Don't waste your favor." As his feet hit that ice slicked roof, he could still feel her eyes wandering across his back. If he took the chance to look back, what would he see in her eyes? Judgement? Resentment? Disappointment? He just couldn't chance it. She had her father's eyes after all. "The guitar…what was that all about?"

"It was my grandfather's. I figured Bird had more right to it than I did."

"And now you've told him you know exactly who he is." She'd lost her element of surprise. _But what about the old man? Does he know about her? Does she know about him? _"Del…" But no matter how many times the words lined up at his lips, they stalled. "Never mind. Keep an eye on Blondie. And uh…" He couldn't stop himself. "…stay close to the Dickhead while I'm gone." What the hell was he saying?! Dick was an ass! Then again, He wasn't like Bruce either. Sure, they were both assholes but at least Dick would keep her alive. "And don't go back." He added, listening to the sound of her bare feet skimming across the floor. "Please."

"Did I just hear Jason Todd say 'please'? Oh, be still my heart."

"No wonder I hate you."

He never looked back, he simply leapt into darkness, leaving the girl standing there at that open window with snowflakes landing on her bedroom floor. "You lie, Jase. You lie."

* * *

There would be no sleeping after that. Not after the snow had littered her floor. Not after her bare feet lead her down into the humid briny warmth of the cave. Not after that creature came off the table, forcing her father to jump between her and the corpse that was anything but a corpse. He was heading toward the fifty-one hour mark. Two days and three hours without so much as a catnap. Batman was grouchy—and in desperate need of a shave. But he seemed even more desperate to separate her from that pale skinned thing with the liquid black eyes. But before he could banish her to the world above, Delilah noticed one disturbing detail…his head, the head that she had kicked in herself…had regenerated.

"He just didn't want you to be seen, Miss." Alfred said softly, willing the girl to peel her eyes from her milky tea as he peered at her from over his shoulder. "You were unmasked after all."

"I know. Stupid on my part. But I didn't think it would still…"

"Be coming to life?"

"Yeah…" The girl uttered, watching his deft fingers crush up the pills on the counter. Her father had been awake for more than two solid days. Alfred always got a little edgy after that. Come to think of it so did he. Maybe he knew his next meal or swig of coffee was going to knock him on his ass.

"And why pray tell, are you out of bed?" Alfred asked, letting his dark eyes slide from the powder he'd created.

"Fell out of bed. Couldn't get back to sleep after that." She muttered, twisting the stool toward the stacks of dusty crates behind her. Ah, Christmas decorations. It was the middle of December after all.

"This doesn't have anything to do with running into your uncle this evening, does it?" Alfred asked as he twisted toward the cabinet for a mug. "He called me that night you know…" He said slowly, tilting his head at the girl as her chair swiveled back around. "Couldn't get ahold of your mother—"

"Did he tell you why?"

"No. But I'd never known the man to be as panicked as he was. By the time I contacted your father, he was on his way there. I never understood that phone call." He said, letting the mug sit there on the counter as he hunkered down on his elbows across from her. "Not until now. He and his young charge should be arriving in Gotham in a matter of hours. A meeting with Commissioner Gordon, I believe."

"How could you possibly know that…wait." But the man was pulling himself up, taking the empty cup to the grumbling coffee pot. "Dad said you and my grandmother were kind of an item." She said gently, smiling into her cup as the man's spine went rigid and his cheeks flushed ever so slightly. But just as his composure might slip, Alfred coughed into his hand and straightened himself out. "Makes sense. I mean, Bailey and Beau Devereux were twins." She stated, pausing only to polish off her cup. "It was you." She said, letting her cup settle into its saucer with a clink. "_You_ were the one who bought all the shares from Devereux-Verre. I'm sure Uncle Beau gave you the inside information. So in reality, he helped you blackmail his own mother. And the cards—the Christmas and Birthday cards. Those weren't from Gigi. They were never from Gigi. _He_ sent them. And he knew exactly where to send them because you told him."

"Well done." Alfred said glancing away from the cup he was filling long enough to see the teen shoot him a smirk. "You could be a detective."

"Cheeky Devil." Delilah teased, sliding from her stool to set her cup in the dishwater. "But I wish he'd told you everything. Maybe something could've been done about Nine Circles then."

"You're not the first Wayne to deal with Nine Circles, you know."

"What? Has Dad run into them before? He didn't mention it."

"No, no. He was only three or so at the time. Of course he wouldn't mention it to you. There was nothing Martha Wayne abhorred more than child abuse. With the help of a young cop by the name of Gordon and yours truly, she had her own covert detection agency for some time." He said, watching that wispy thing sag against the counter under the weight of his words. "I don't think Martha dreamed of it delving into the human trafficking world like it did. But after the deaths of your grandparents, the agency fell apart. Nine Circles was the last ring your grandmother ever saw pulled apart."

"But now it's back…"

"Now it's back." The man lamented, watching the girl sink her teeth into her lip. "I don't know if I put much stock in destiny and fate, but I do find it ironic that Martha's granddaughter is following in her footsteps without even realizing it." He said as he lifted the tray with the steaming mug and pot. "It's strange how much of your grandmothers I see in you." He added, pausing at the door as the girl slid away from the counter.

"I wish I could've met them." Delilah whispered, feeling Alfred's gaze on her back as she slipped her coat from the hook by the door. "Do you think…" The softly stated words were enough to make the man pause in the breezeway. "Do you think you could tell me a little more about Grandma Bailey sometime? I don't want to pry or anything it's just…"

"I would be happy to. As far as this very moment goes, I'm curious as to where you think you're going at such an hour."

At that, Del stopped wrapping her scarf around her neck. "For a walk."

"I've heard that one before."

Holding up her father's recorder, the girl could see Alfred's thin lips mashing together. "Really, I'm just going for a walk. Stare at some Christmas lights or something." She stated turning back only to collect her woolen cap. "I'll help you decorate when I get back…maybe then?"

"Yes, Miss. Do stay warm."

"Of course, Alfred."

"You have your phone, yes?"

"Yeah…why?"

"I have to placate the bat with _something_."

* * *

"_Beware the Court of Owls that watches all the time. Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed. Speak not a whispered word about them, or they'll send the Talon for your head. I hadn't believed in talons and the Court of Owls since I was a boy. Maybe I never should've stopped."_

She wasn't sure where her feet were leading her as she marred the stark white streets with her boot prints, she only knew the more she listened to that gravelly voice humming in her ears, the more lost and tangled her thoughts became. _Court of Owls? Talons? _ Those weren't phrases she'd heard before. And the more her lips mouthed the words, the more foreign they felt. More of her father's little secrets? But that would explain the owl motif in the man's gear. Not that the thing on the table even resembled a man anymore. _And there are more of those things out there…_

Pausing under the haze of yellow twinkling lights, Del let out a breath, watching the air claim it into a soft wispy cloud as she lifted her head, staring up at the small batch of stars that were peeking through the holes that had been punched in that ash gray sky. _"Looks like the body contains a high amount of electrum—a mixture of alloy that one wouldn't normally find in a human body. Only cooling agent seems to slow down its reactions. Still regenerating. The skull was…completely kicked in."_

Was that…hesitation in his voice? Did he think she wasn't capable of such a thing? Or was there something more to that exhausted ache? _"But it's completely reformed now."_ She couldn't remember peeling herself from the soft shimmering glow for the darker shadows of the street. She didn't blink when she felt the last of the snowfall grazing her cheek. But when she felt that hand gripping into her shoulder, Del could only let her breath hiss out.

"It's five in the morning, what in the world are you doing?" Tugging the headphones from her ears, she turned the recorder off, silencing her father's voice as she peered up at Beau Devereux's creased face. Wait. She was at the cul-de-sac. Blinking the snowflakes off her lashes, she could see the man's shoeprints wandering down the street to reach her, leaving behind the gray haired housekeeper and curious blonde child who were still sliding from the car. "What? Are you trying to turn into a popsicle?" He asked, cupping his warm hands on her icy cheeks. "Bless your crooked little head."

"Geez, you sound like Mom." The girl muttered. "I was just taking a walk. Woke up way too early." Beau Devereux seemed unperturbed, he simply swung and arm around her and twisted her toward the cottage.

"Sure I sound like your mom or did you mama just happen to sound like me?" He asked, watching that silly little smile brighten the dimness. "Alfred said you might—"

"That traitor! Are you two pals or frenemies?" She asked blinking in that soft yellow glow that was pouring out across the snow covered yard.

"We play whatever part is necessary." He said, tilting his head to the sky as he let a veil of air from his lungs. "He did a great service to my sister before she died. I'll never be able to repay him for it." He said, pausing to knock the snow from his shoes.

"Oh yeah? What was that?"

"He loved her." There was something about those simple words that seemed to make her pull her head up from her boots so fast it made all the blood rush. But the man only gave her a sad simpering face. "He loved her at a time she was sure love and life was all but done with her. The doctors only gave her six months to live. She made it almost a year and half. I think he had a lot to do with that extra time." He said as he shoved open the door, letting the warmth wade out to greet them. "What? What's that face?"

"We're talking about Alfred…"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"He's just so…_Alfred_." No sooner had the words slipped out of her mouth, did Beau lift his head and laugh. Melodic, rough and warm, it was enough to make her lips curl into a smirk as he pulled her through the front door.

* * *

The warmth barely had any time to eat away at the cold that lingered about her flesh before the man lead her to another part of the house. "How is she?" The girl managed, breathing in the soft scent of hickory wood and leather bound books. If any part of this house belonged to Beau Devereux, it was this small library lined with photos and warm oak panels.

"Clara's…adjusting." He murmured, his chest rising and falling as he gestured to a pair of chairs by the window, peeling the girl from the walls and the unfamiliar faces she should've known. "We Devereuxs are an acquired taste." He added, the side of his mouth twisting. "As soon as Commissioner Gordon is through with us, I'm taking her back to South Carolina." He could see Del's lips parting as she eased into the burgundy tufted chair, but he held up his hand. "I don't want anyone recognizing her. It's not like I can hide her, she's a child."

"It can be done. Trust me."

"Jesus, ma petite, I'm sorry I didn't mean—"

"What are you sorry for? You didn't do it to me." What am I saying?! To silence her tongue, she stabbed it with her teeth, watching the man sink into the chair across from her. It was too late to take the words back. "It's not like he wanted to hide me like that…" She whispered, picking up an ivory pawn from the chessboard between them. "But I understand. I'm sure Gordon will too."

"I just hope she does. I know she wants to find her sister."

"Children's faces change quickly. I'm sure in time she can…"

"In time." The man said with a nod let his fingers fall from the ebony piece beneath them as he tilted to his head to the soft creaking above their heads. "So what really has you up at this Godforsaken hour?" No sooner had the words fall from his mouth did he see the girl's thick lip disappear beneath her teeth.

"Nothing."

"Oh, liar, liar, pants on fire. You lie like your Mama—means you can't." He said giving a nod to the frosty window as movement caught his eye.

She wasn't sure what she was supposed to see as she peered through the snow covered shrubbery to spy on that dull gray world. But as she spotted the trim lines of an inky black suit, the girl found herself forgetting about the weight of the piece in her hand as she pulled herself closer to the icy panes. The short gray hair, the thick black brows, the broad nose—_are you shitting me_?! "What's Falcone doing here?" The teen asked, wincing as the heavy pawn slammed down on the board.

"That's a good question…for the dragon." And yet he wanted her to see the man? "How about the truth now, Little Bit?"

"Have I ever been to the house in Carolina? With Mom I mean…" In the soft reflection of those slick white pawns she could see the Beau's eyes moving from the board to her, letting his thick fingers tap on his mouth as if he were putting his thoughts in order.

"A couple of times."

"Did she cut one of those visits short?"

_You look so much like your mother._ So much, it almost hurt to look at her, hurt to watch her tap her slender fingers on her chin as she plotted his demise—the same way _she_ used to. Only a few moves in and the wheels were already turning he could see it in that careful gaze. A finessed aggressor. But who had taught her to be so aggressive? Falling back into his chair, Beau let a sigh slip out as his fingers turned loose of an ebony pawn. "How could you possibly remember that?"

"I just…I just…do you know why?"

"Gigi had an old friend drop by that Christmas." He said letting the popping of logs eat away at the soft palpable silences between them. "Your mother didn't like him. Didn't trust him. She didn't think you were safe there."

"And what did you think?"

"That she knew something about Ra's Al Ghul that I didn't." He said carefully, not batting an eye as a pawn slid from Del's fingers clipping the board before it hit the floor. "And so do you it seems."

"_He didn't tell you about the side effects did he? What it could do to her?" The Lazarus pit! That was the offer! Gigi…what did you do? He wouldn't offer that for nothing._ Realizing that the silence had grown too thick, Del forced herself to sit up, shaking her head as she swallowed the knot in her throat.

"I'm curious, what do you know?"

"That she was right not trust him. How does Gigi know him?"

"How do I know who?" Hearing that soft lyrical voice rise about the hissing of the flames, every muscle in her body jerked. She never heard the door open, never heard her small feet on the carpet, but standing there in that clean black and white suit was Gisele Devereux herself. "She's a charming little creature, Bébé. A touch shy perhaps."

"She has every right to be shy, Mama. She doesn't know us from Adam and God only knows what she's been through."

"True." The woman said with a sigh as she crossed the room, setting those familiar eyes on Del. "How you got this one through the door is a mystery to me." She said, setting the fine glass bottles she clutched right there in the empty space of the board. "I see, you'll visit with him but not your grandmother, is that how it is?"

"I _like_ him."

"Easy now, Little Bit."

Listening to the woman's soft French curses the girl could only roll her eyes, watching her uncle reach across the board for one of the small glass bottle. "Pick one would you please?" Gigi asked finally as she peeled her gaze from the beams above their heads.

"Isn't it Marcella's Job to handle the fragrances?"

"And where do you think the samples came from? Or would you like to trade places with your sister?"

"More like she wouldn't _want_ to trade places with me. Out of the three of us, I'm the one who puts up with her the most." He said, leaning in to snatch a sample card from the woman's wrinkled hands. "Your great-uncle Alexandre ran off to New York to sharpen his teeth and claws. And that great-aunt of yours? She scampered off to France as soon as she could." He muttered, smirking as he won a curl of the lip out of the girl.

"You wound me."

"Unlikely." The man coughed, sputtering as the wet shards of perfume ballooned in the air. "Those scales are tougher than that."

Delilah wasn't sure what possessed her to lift the closest bottle, letting the soft curves of glass fit into her hands as she lifted it up to glance at the bottom. A small fleur-de-lis marked with a D. "You make the glass too, right?"

"Glass is the first priority, the girly stuff came later." Her uncle managed, grimacing at the small scent cards he made. "I think she's just trying to torture me."

"Alexandre wouldn't complain."

"Oh of course the little dragon wouldn't!" Beau sneered, letting Del steal the cards from his hand.

"So…Uncle Alexandre is the next Dragon, huh?" The girl asked, knowing full well those familiar hazel eyes were watching her so carefully. "How did you end up with that nickname anyway?"

"That, ma chère, is a very old and very long story."

"Did the Demon's Head give it to you?" She could see the surprise roll through the woman as if it came from her very bones.

"How-how do you know Ra's?" Gigi asked, her gnarled fingers slamming down on the table, knocking down bottles, rooks and pawns all at once.

"It's…complicated."

"Bullshit!"

"It's not like I've met him personally!" Delilah snapped, as her Grandmother's cool fingers curled around her wrist. "But you have…you've always known more than you let on, haven't you? Grand-mère, what did you promise him?! What did you tell him?!" But no sooner had her words began to rise, did the old woman seemed to be falling. Her tight face was suddenly ashen and slack as she fell to her knees with the fallen chess pieces. Before Beau could even pull his alarmed self from his chair, Gigi clasped the girl by the face.

"Listen to me. Listen to me, Bébé." Why was that word so familiar falling out of her mouth? Why did it make her want to crawl in someone's lap? Why did it make her hear the sound of the sea and the soft drawl of voices? But as the girl blinked, she could find nothing but those eyes staring at her. Wet and worried. "I don't know how you've come to know that name, but stay away from it." With that the woman pressed her thin lips to her forehead as she rose to her feet. "Promise me. Promise me, Delilah."

"I can't. I said it was complicated. His grandson…is my little brother."

"The boy—the boy that was with you?" Just as Del gave a nod, a peculiar sound seemed to bubble out of her grandmother, forcing the woman to squash her laughter with her wrinkled hand. "My great-grandchild and his grandson in the same house? Fate is merciless."

"Mama, why don't you sit down and explain-" Beau started, twisting his head the double doors when a soft knock echoed through the room.

"Mr. Devereux, Commissioner Gordon is here…" The soft plea of a child was enough to send the trio into silence.

"Come in then, ma petite."

Delilah could feel her lungs start to ache when the girl slid through that door, bringing with her the white haired Gordon. "Mr. Devereux. Mrs. Devereux." Oh, but when those dark eyes spotted the teen parked in that chair, the man seemed to pause. "Miss Wayne…I'm not entirely sure I'm glad to see you."

That was enough to get a raised brow out of her uncle. "Been seeing a little too much of each other huh?"

The teenager only slouched in her seat as she watched Clara ease herself on the sofa. "Understatement." She said with a sigh, letting Gigi peel the glass from her fingers. "But I had something I wanted to discuss with you after you've taken their statements." She could see the man's shoulders falling, as if he were waiting for the _boom_, but Del only found his gaze and held it. "About the group who broke up Nine Circles some years ago." She said pulling herself up straight as Gordon's face sobered. "I'd like to bring it back."

* * *

The sidewalks were all but littered with shoeprints and bundled forms in hats and colorful scarves. Any day now the city would start to come to life, shedding its ash and soot for snow and brightly twinkling lights. But no bystander seemed to notice the girl staring out that large bay window, watching the world become caked with white.

"_There's a very fine line between love and hate. If you remember nothing else from me, please remember that."_ The tale Gigi had told was a strange one, one that only reminded the girl of what an extraordinary life the woman had lead in these last ninety seven years—and the man who seemed to be weaved through it.

He was just a researcher—or that's what he'd told her father when he became one of their many tenants on their sprawling estate. He was the one who gave her the name 'Dame de dragon'. After all, who would believe a human could live five hundred years and _not_ see a dragon? The man disappeared just as quickly as he came, leaving behind nothing but a nickname that the girl grew into.

In time she clawed her way to the top of her father's business and found herself placed in an arranged marriage with a man across the sea. But just as life seemed to be coming together, it all toppled with the fall of France. She'd seen her own home overtaken by Nazis. And had no choice but to watch the father she admired crumble and die. Gisele was left with only one choice- escape or perish.

But just as she thought the darkest moments of her life had begun, there that man was, pulling her by the hand as she fled from Europe. She hadn't known that her savior had left one of his own children in a concentration camp to rot or how he felt about this world—and maybe that was for the best.

By the time they'd reach the shores of the United States, she had a choice. Marry the fiancé her father had chosen for her, or stay with this eccentric man who she loved and feared all at once. She chose the former and never looked back. She came to love her husband, became a mother, made her husband's legacy into an empire and fought to keep it after his sudden death. And Ra's? Ra's had never forgotten this betrayal. Who knew finding a small measure of happiness could be an act of treachery?

Over the years the tit for tat relationship decayed, leaving scars and stained hands as souvenirs. Sure there were moments when Gigi would pause to blink away the glaze on her eyes, no doubt skipping details she didn't want her grandchild to hear. But one thing was certain. Ra's Al Ghul may have given her the name. But she was the one who gave the dragon life.

"I'm sorry I don't think she's paying us any attention." Feeling someone's foot nail her shin, Del hit the table, rattling plates and cups as she jolted in her chair, tearing the reverie to shreds. _Damn you, Damian! _But as her fingers fisted around her fork ready to stab the boy in the arm, she found all eyes on her. The fork hit the plate with a clatter. _Lunch with Powers. Whoops. _

"We must be boring her with such shop talk." _Or I'm just not impressed._

"I'm sorry, my mind keeps wandering elsewhere." Del said gently, winning nothing more than an arched brow from across the table. But at least Derek Powers seemed to buy it. _Now smile and pretend you're just one of those silly girls that's more interested in spending your father's money than his business. _When she was sure she had the scheming man hooked for the bait, she shoved her chair back, half watching that dark haired head pass by the window while she untangled the Doberman from beneath her chair. "Excuse me, I need some air." She murmured, tugging the lazy creature as she darted for the door, her father's call to turn up her phone chasing her out into the plaza. At this rate, she'd never be able to catch him. Before she could think to call out to Tim, Jax tugged, yanking the leash from her ungloved fingers; he was off like a shot. _Damn! Damn! Damn!_

* * *

"The Jaguar of Verdeza."

"Isn't that the last piece?"

"It's the first collection I ever attempted at putting together." Jack Drake murmured, as he turned the statue over in his gloved hands, well aware that the boy was leaning in. "Never thought my first one would also be my last." He mused, watching Tim's lips tighten in the cat's topaz eyes. "It's not the labor I miss. It's outsmarting the other archeologists. We study the civilizations and yet it has a way of bringing out human nature in ourselves. You could always expect the worst sort to make the dumb decisions." He added, glancing over his shoulder. "That's when you claim the prize."

"And how did you find this one?"

"It was in someone's private collection. I didn't think he'd go for letting it join the rest of the collection here at the museum. Surprised the hell out of me."

"To be fair, it surprised me that you knew I had it." Glancing up from the statue in his father's hands, Tim peeled himself from the table as he stared up at the familiar face. Beau Devereux. "Sorry, the curator said you'd be back here."

"Not at all, Mr. Devereux. Not at all. Though I'm curious, just how _did_ you end up with it?" But the man was shaking his head, keeping his eyes on the small blonde haired child who was tip toning through the room.

"You have your trade secrets." Beau said, as he stood across the table. "I have mine."

"Still wanting to leave it as an anonymous donation I assume?"

"Just as we agreed." The man murmured, his brows knitting as he lifted his chin. The quizzical stare was enough to make Tim turn to the window, spying a black coated dog pawing and sniffing in the small strip of snow covered green between the buildings. Without hesitation he hit the side door, letting flakes and flurries scatter across the floor.

"Jax?" Just as he suspected, the Doberman's head shot up, leaving him to prance and pounce there in the snow as Tim slid from the doorway. "She's gonna kill you." He sighed, spotting the end of that leash peeking through the snow. "Where _is_ your owner?" The closer he got, the faster that nub on his rump wagged, but no sooner did he reach for that dragging line did the canine dart around him. "Man, you _are_ a jerk." He breathed, the warmth of his breath leaping out to join the air as he watched the dog crouch with his front paws in the snow—like it was nothing but a game to him. The dog jived left, he went right, watching that leash slither through the snow. "I've got you now, Pup." But as he swung down to grab it, his hand landed right on a set of long cold fingers, mashing the end of the leash beneath them.

"Jax, Sit."

"No way it's that simple…" The boy grumbled, rolling his eyes when the dog turned, walked right to her side and sat, staring up at her with that shit eating dog grin. "You're still a jerk." He muttered to the creature. The leash he realized was limply hanging on her fingers—icy fingers that were still trapped in his own hand. "Hi." What else could he say? It'd been a couple days and the only thing that had passed between them was the far off stares of disappointment. "Um…about the other night…"

Her chest heaved with a breath. "Can we _not_ talk about it?" As cold as her fingers felt, her breath was warm. _ How long are we going to tiptoe around this? She completely lost control of herself._ But at least she wasn't yanking her hand away…"I mean your dad's staring… and so is my uncle—why's he here exactly?" At those words, he let her fingers drop as he peeked at the window; sure enough they had an audience. Without another word, he seized the girl by the hand, pulling her and that ridiculous dog of hers through the door.

"Wait. I don't know if a dog can be back here." She protested, but Jack was shrugging.

"As long as he doesn't chew on the fossils, the curator won't give two shits—pardon the expression." He said lifting his head as the girl gravitated toward the table and the statue.

"Beautiful."

"You've never seen this?" But as the girl shook her head, the man only lifted his. "Huh, you _do_ keep secrets don't you? Not even your niece knows you had it." Beau's only response was to give a one shouldered shrug, watching Del's gaze flick down to the gold name plate. "Tim, can you wheel that case over here?"

"Two times in one day?"

"I thought you were catching a plane?" Del asked, easing her back along the wall beside her uncle, half watching Clara peer into the cases around her. But even as the little thing tried to keep a stoic face, he could see the muscles of her pert little mouth giving in to a frown.

"Shortly. I just wanted to make sure that the statue got here."

"So why anonymous?"

"Because I was never supposed to have it in the first place." He murmured, giving the girl a sidelong glance. "It was a three way trade—it didn't go as planned." _Black market antiquities? Were you seriously laundering money?! _

"What were you trading for?"

"Another life." He whispered, letting them both go quiet as they watched the father and son team move the heavy statue over to its new home. "It could've bought a few more…I almost turned him away."

_So that's why they were meeting in Metropolis! _"Just how many lives do you think you could've saved if you'd gotten caught? What changed your mind?" But her uncle only patted her on the top of her head, peeling himself away from the wall as he was called to the small group that was hovering around the sculpture. He knew who she was; why in the world would he admit that to her?! Ballsy Bastard! Blowing out a breath, she let Jax pull her forward, watching her reflection build behind the little eavesdropper. "Hello again."

"Can I ask you something?" The child murmured, turning away from the soft glow of the case before her. "Are you _really_ his niece?"

"Sad but true." The teen murmured, watching Jax press his skull into the girl's leg, willing her small fingers down to the top of his head.

"Sorry, it's just—that's what he tells people…about me. And when he introduced you this morning…I mean—I know who you are…" Clara said, her frail shoulders rolling with a shrug. "I've been in Gotham all my life I've seen your face, I know the stories—just don't know which ones are true."

"Very few—I'm not adopted. I wasn't a publicity ploy. I didn't come from the street or off the market. I guess I could be called a 'secret love child', but then they don't know squat about my mom."

"Then how do you know so much about Nine Circles?" The girl asked, whirling around on her heel. "How could someone like _you_ even know they exist?!" In the reflection of the glass she could see Tim and Beau lifting their heads. Her shoulders were all but shaking under Del's hands. With so much happening in the last couple days, how could she blame her?

_I don't want tell her about the dead girl in the snow, and I can't tell her about Anabel. All that's left…is me. _"I'm gonna tell you something, something only a handful of people actually know. So it'll be our secret, okay?" Watching Clara's head nod, Del eased herself to her haunches. "I know about Nine Circles because the man who killed my mom almost sold me to them. Uncle Beau just happened to stumble onto their bidding site. He saw my picture. I guess he's been bidding on people ever since." She said gently as Jax worked his way between them to plop at the child's feet.

"I thought Batman was the one who saved you? That's what the magazines always say."

"He did. He stepped in before anything could come of it. I was seriously lucky. I know it's not the same as having to actually live through it…"

"No one killed our parents to get to us either." The girl said pointedly, dropping down to rub the dog's belly.

"I was an afterthought." Del uttered, forcing herself to look away when she realized Tim was staring in their direction. Geez, it was like he knew—like he could hear her whispers going thick or see her swallowing the sudden knots. "I don't want to see anyone else swept up in Nine Circles."

"So, what you and the Commissh' were talking about—you were being serious? You really want to assemble a team?" Watching the girl nod, Clara shot to her feet. "Can _I_ help?"

"You already are, every little detail you remember is a help."

"Yeah but… Mr. Devereux's making me go back to South Carolina with him. I have to find Aiden."

"He's just trying to keep you safe. What if someone from Nine Circles recognized you? We'll help you find her, but you have to let lie low for a little while."

"He said that too. But what if I remember something or—"

"Then you tell him, or you call the Commissioner." Delilah said, dropping down to the child's height. "I'll give you my number and you can even call me if you want. I'll leave it with Uncle Beau. You can call me any time- even two in the morning."

"Sorry, but If I gotta call someone at two in the morning, I'm calling someone else." The girl said, giving a bit of crooked grin as her fingers wrapped around that locket hanging from her neck. "How exactly do you get in touch with Batman?"

"Get in major trouble." But the child only giggled, lifting her head when she realized Beau Devereux was closing the gap.

"They have their cat, it's time for us to go. We have a plane to catch." But the words seemed to linger in the air as Del reached over and retrieved the cellphone out of his hand. "Well, excuse you."

"Put this number somewhere she can get to it."

"And there she goes, bossing people around again." Tim lamented, giving her a cheeky little grin as he leaned against the table.

"She was bossy when she was three…some things never change." The man said with a sigh, leaning in to peck the girl on the cheek. "Behave yourself, Little Bit."

"You first." She rebuked. _Blackmail. Money Laundering. Human Trafficking—all the wrong things…for the right reasons. It's not always black and white, sometimes the right thing is a murky shade of gray._

* * *

She could hear them long before she could see them, their melodious laughter rising into the air like the steam that was floating above the streets. They were a tangle of limbs and waving scarfs, stumbling and slipping through the packed sidewalk with their gloved fingers laced together—oblivious to the darkness and the girl crouched on the ledge. _So…you've kissed him, haven't you? Are you guys like a thing now or what? _She could still see Sam twisting around in her computer chair, her lips curling into that knowing smile when the blood started to rush up to Del's face. No? Yes? Maybe? One moment whatever this was seemed to be on the verge of tilting into something more…and now? Now they could barely look at each other.

Feeling the weight of someone's hand on her head, Batgirl raised her chin, peering up at that lanky bat-eared form. "Be nice to be that oblivious." He commented, resting in the empty space beside her. "Is there a reason your communicator is turned off?" _And yet, you were still able to find me, Dickybird. _

"Just needed a minute." The girl answered, watching the couple's shadows mingle together as they continued down the street. What would it be like to actually be so insensibly happy? To cling to someone as if your fingers had frozen together? _He didn't let go of your hand today. _But that look was still there, the sound of disappointment still hung in his voice.

"Link off."

"He's gonna flip his lid."

"Let me worry 'bout the big bat, so what's really going on here, Squirt?"

"It's not that big of a deal…" The girl muttered, watching the snow stick to the ledge beneath her feet. "He's so damn disappointed—like he's waiting for me to admit that I completely lost control of myself or something. But I don't think I did anything wrong! I did what I had to!"

"Just who are we talking about here?"

"T-Red Robin."

At the sound of that name stammering out of her mouth, the man in the bat-suit seemed to shorten. "Oi. I knew it."

"Yes! When the thing's neck snapped I freaked out! There was second I thought for sure I'd actually taken life from someone else." She said, tilting her head at the strange moving shadow that was just out of reach of the oblivious pair. "But then…it got back up. I just-I just reacted." She uttered, feeling for her grappling guns. "Now he looks at me like I'm a ticking time bomb or something. Like I'm about to lose my shit and just start slaughtering people…like I'm—"

"Someone else we know?"

_Like Damian?_ Jabbing her teeth into her lip she could feel nothing but that bitter tingle of cold flesh. "It's not even that! I mean, sure—"

"You and the demon spawn are more alike than you think." Dick said gently, holding up his hands when the girl whirled around on her heel. "But that's not the point." He added. "I don't know if you lost control or if you simply let your emotions take over. You put your friend in harm's way and the situation got hairier than you anticipated. Were you in the wrong? Yes."

"But-"

"For getting your friend involved. You should have called for one of us the moment you put that cowl on. But do I think you were in the wrong for reacting the way you did? No. Can't kill something that's already dead—I mean something else already beat you to it." He said, making the little bat smirk.

"The red bird still sees the world in black and white. It's right or wrong and there's no middle ground. But he hasn't seen half of what you have. He's just…he's just worried about you. That's all." He uttered, letting that heavy gloved hand fall back on her head as he peered over her, watching the unfamiliar form slip out before the couple on the street. "So kiss and make up already." He chided, letting his hand fall to his grappling gun. "But if actually he kisses you I'll have to break his face." He said, sending the line to a nearby pipe. "Last one down there is a rotten egg." But before the words could even climb into the air the girl was falling to the ground.

"Egg laying is a Robin's job!"

_Little smart ass. Wasn't long ago that you were afraid to let go of my hand. And now…_ And now the girl was all but twisting herself around a light pole, planting her booted feet into the man's chest, when that flash of silver left his pocket. Watching the knife hit icy concrete, he could feel a breath slithering out of his lungs as he landed in a crouch watching the mugger twist his head to stare at the angry batgirl, rather than paying attention to who he was about to run into. But the time the poor sap turned his head, it was too late. "Let's put you on ice." He hissed, knocking the fool to the sidewalk with one good swing.

Batgirl was shaking that long eared head as she bent down to retrieve the purse from the perp's half gloved fingers. "If I'd heard Batman being so cheesy," she said, reaching out to the pair with the woman's purse dangling on her fingers. "I'd be making that face too." Without waiting for a response she set her hook into the nearest building and let the line yank her into the clouded darkness, knowing full well he'd be right behind her.

"Cheesy? Who are you callin' cheesy?"

"Isn't it obvious?" She called, feeling her lips pull into a numb kind of smile as the winter wind rushed through the edges of her cowl. The cold could make her throat sore and her lungs ache, but it couldn't take away that flash heat in the tips of her fingers as she spread her arms into the air. For just a second she could forget that she was falling—for the space of a breath she flew, forcing herself to reset her line or else let the city below rush up to meet her.

"Could you _not_ freak me out?" Dick grumbled, setting himself in the space beside her.

"You first." She teased. "You're the one who's always telling us to have fun."

"Yeah, just don't go kamikaze-bat on me or anything." He muttered, watching her spine straighten as if he'd just poured ice down her suit. "Let me guess, it was something I said?" But as his words seemed to sink in, the girl just shook her head.

"No. _Link on." Have you and Jason…? Nah, no way in Hell._

"_Anyone there?! Where the hell are you guys?! If you two turned off your communications links, Bats is gonna be the least of your—" _

"We're here, O, what's wrong?"

"_Robbery in progress at the Gotham Museum! Geez, I've only been trying to alert you guys for the past few minutes!" _

Why? Why did it make her stomach want to clench? Feeling the tips of her fingers itch with adrenaline beneath her gloves, the small bat fled to the air, listening to the sound of that heavy Kevlar cape billowing out behind her. "I think I know what they're after."

* * *

At the sound of glass crunching underfoot, Robin lifted his head, peeling his knee out of the body beneath him. "You're late." The boy snapped, not hesitating to put a foot into the man at his feet.

"What are you doing here? You're not on duty."

"You weren't doing your job." He sneered, jutting his chin at the impromptu bat. "I thought I'd show you how it's done." But out of the corner of his eye, he could see that sister of his weaving her way through the ensnared bodies and piles of glass.

"This collection hasn't even been on display for twelve hours_." Someone knew—someone was waiting. _"Where's the cat?"

"I left that for the idiot to recover." He scoffed. "Quite frankly, I wanted him out of my way."

"You mean someone actually ran out of here with it?!"

"Do I need to paint a picture for you?" But just when he thought the girl might have a retort she simply turned about and began to flee for the jagged opening in the window pane.

"That statue takes at least two people to move it. Either the person who ran out of here with it is extremely strong—or someone switched it." _Tim would know that. _"We need to find Red Robin, and we need to do it now. O! Can you tell me where the Redbird is?"

"_He's—at home? Why in the world would he be there at a time like this?"_

* * *

_I know this smell._ The scent of fire and burning metal was enough to make the young bat's stomach clench, but it seemed to propel her toward that familiar door oblivious to the awkward darkness that had consumed the hall. _Be wrong. Be wrong damn it! _Why the hell was this building so deafeningly quiet?! Or was the sound of a shot echoing beyond the walls just that loud?

_He knew the statue was a fake, and so did someone else! _ As if summoned by that nearly inhuman cry, the man beside her shot forward, not even hesitating to kick in the door, splintering and popping hardware as the sudden nauseating smell of blood wafted from the Drake's apartment. Maybe a small part of her ego told her she was ready to see whatever lay beyond that door. But as batgirl finally crossed the threshold, she realized that was a lie.

"DAD! Dad, C'mon! You gotta stay with me!"

_It's not the open window that's making the flesh rise beneath your suit. It's not the blood pool that's spreading across the floor. It's the boy. It's the boy kneeling in that red puddle trying to stop the blood from escaping from between his fingers. And you know…you know it won't work. _

"Please…please. I-" She wasn't sure what made her heavy limbs move, it didn't matter that the tips of her cape were drawing lines through the tacky substance at her feet, or that the knot in her throat kept her from speaking. She just let herself sink to the floor, pressing her gloves over Tim's blood soaked fingers as his tears just continued to fall.

"Tim…" But the teen just shook his head, pressing his forehead to the knot of hands over his father's limp body as the pulse beneath them faded. She couldn't remember seeing Batman move from the door, or even seeing him crouch down to take Jack Drake's vitals. But the second that bat-eared head lowered with a sigh, Tim peeled his hands away, forcing himself to stand. For a moment she was sure he may've uttered something, but he said nothing as he continued to tear away his mask. "Tim…"

"Dana's…she's uh…she locked herself in the bedroom." He said, stopping to swallow the sudden knots that kept thickening his voice. Del could feel her fingers stretching across the air, but it was too late, in an attempt to blot away the over flowing tears, he only managed to mar his cheeks. But before either bat could utter a sound, Tim's pale green eyes fell to his stained hands. "I wasn't here." The whisper could've impaled her, but the girl slowly rose to her feet, watching the tremors of shock work their way up his limbs. "He _needed me_, and I wasn't here! I could've stopped it…I could've…" _Saved him. _The thought seemed to spear its way through her, bringing with it the sharp sting of salty tears coating her dry eyes _Oh, Jesus Tim. _With one slip in that crimson pool at his feet the boy wobbled, forcing her to reach forward as he all but collapsed in someone else's arms.

"I've got you." Watching him all but crumble in Batman's arms, Del forced herself to look to the ceiling, forcing the overrun to spill inside her cowl as she stared up at the blood splatter that coated that white paint like webbing. She may have been forcing herself to look away from Jack's body, but nothing could stop the blood soaked bird from unleashing that gut wrenching sob.

"I'm…I'm gonna check on Mrs. Drake." She uttered, ignoring that hitching breath as the sound of grief and sirens rose together. It was an eerie concophany, a marker of the end. It was a sound she was sure she'd never hear again. _You know it because you've made that sound yourself. It's how you know a part of you has died._

* * *

"What idiot takes off like that?" But no sooner had the words floated up into the air mixing with the sound of the piano, Damian's fingers paused. "Never mind, look who we're talking about." He said, tilting his head as his sister lifted hers, breaking her gaze from dreary gray world and the pellets of freezing rain that had all but littered the ground.

"As if you wouldn't have done the same in his shoes." She murmured, her fingers moving across the keys without even looking at the sheet music. It was enough to make the boy beside her twist his face in disgust as she reached up and turned the page. "That was a C you missed." Damn her, she wasn't even looking.

"_Tch_. It never would've gotten to that point." He said dryly, forcing his fingers to unfold across the keys. "Serves him right, now he knows what a pathetic excuse of a Robin he is. With luck, Father won't find him." The second he lifted his gaze from the inky black notes, he found those pale blue eyes, narrow and shimmering with anger. He never saw it coming. _Him_! Had he become that complacent with her? The sound of flesh smacking flesh seemed to assault him first before the sting spread across his cheek. "You're _dead_-"

"Be quiet!" She cried, shooting up from the bench just as he jumped to his feet. "No one deserves that! God forbid you _ever_ have to feel that kind of loss!" When her hands fell on his shoulders the boy seemed to jump beneath her palms. _Always ready to fight_. "We all have… Tim. Jason. Dick. Alfred. _Dad. _Or did you forget why Batman became necessary?" Hell, did he even know _why_ Batman came to be? Shaking her head she let her grip slide from him as she twisted toward the window, pressing her hand into the icy pane. "You're smart. You're skilled. But when it comes to empathy, sympathy or compassion, you might as well be brain dead."

"I resent that."

Somehow the words only seemed to summon a scratchy sort of laugh from the girl, making her drop her arm and lift her head to cloud the glass with her puffs of laughter. "I'm glad you do. I guess there might be hope for you yet. " She said, peering through the curtain of rain and beads of ice to watch the iron gate swing open. No car? Then…who?

"You didn't list yourself." He said, watching her grow still—as if she wasn't even breathing. But it didn't seem like his words were the reason she ripped herself from the window, leaving behind a perfect print of her palm. Life lines. What a crock. When soft steps suddenly echoed into the sound of jogging feet, Damian peeled himself away from the piano just in time to see Del fling open the front door.

_It's him. It's gotta be him. _"Tim…" She barely recognized that soggy shape, pale and crumbling. There was no telling what he had done in those hours he'd slipped from the scene. Didn't he know how worried they'd been? Didn't he know that Dick and her dad were still out there looking for him? Skidding down the ice slicked stairs, Del let the wind yank her umbrella from her grip tossing it behind her like a toy. The rain felt like needles, and yet she couldn't think about the water soaking through her clothing or the sting of ice pelting her exposed skin—she just wanted to get to him before he dissolved into nothing right before her eyes.

"Tim." His name all but tumbled out of her mouth as she slid, crashing to earth just as he fell to his knees and into her open arms. Her arms were tight around him, her nails felt like claws digging into his shirt and his skin, but at least it made him feel _something_. With every tremble she only seemed to squeeze tighter, gripping him as if he were about slip from her fingers.

"I don't...I don't know where else to go." She felt him speaking more than she heard the words. His ragged breath was all but pooling against her neck, trembling like the body that was all but melting into her with the pounding of the winter mix.

"It doesn't matter. I'm with you."

* * *

_That's two snowy funerals I've seen. _"These look great, Del." Sam said suddenly, dragging her from the crows in black suits and heels. Blinking, she couldn't see the snowcapped markers anymore, or that sullen faced boy hanging his head at her father's side. Instead she could feel the paintbrush still resting in her hand, the ache in her legs reminded her she was still sitting cross legged on the floor before that half-finished canvas. Taking a side long glance she spotted Sam flipping through the small sheets of colorful paintings she'd made at the girl's request. "I don't know why you're not in the art club or in the art classes, you're really good at it."

"It's…it's just something I do to relax. If I did all that for school, it'd take the fun out of it for me. I'm not as good as my mom was though…"

"What'd you know? One of you actually has a hobby." Sam teased, stilling her hands over the leather she was working with, as the silence ate away at the room, letting the bars of _jingle bells_ grow louder and louder, so loud she practically never heard Alfred enter the room. "Is that…what I think it is?"

"That depends on what you think it is, Miss Cleary."

"The Mp3 player of a certain someone." Hearing Sam's answer, Del could only tilt her head back, giving a devious grin as the man set the object down beside her. "Did you seriously just pull one over on the resident ninja?" When the man only gave a cheeky little wink, the girl shook her head at the ceiling. "Next you'll be telling us you're MI6 or something."

"I leave getting it back in place to you, Miss." Alfred said as he straightened himself back out to eye the painting before the girl. He didn't realize he'd gone quiet until he found the girl on the floor staring up at him. "And just where did you get this?" He asked as he cleared his throat, letting his dark eyes return to the half painted portions of a child in a tutu holding a man's hand.

"Mom…she had it stashed away with her art stuff. I just…I just wanted to finish it." She murmured, letting her eyes return to the paint. Strange, every time she looked at it, she could feel a hand swallowing hers whole. She could feel the sand melting under her feet.

"He still has that blasted shell you gave him."

"Wait! So this is a real moment?! This isn't something Mom cooked up?! I mean I kinda remember someone holding my hand at the beach but..." _It was Dad. _"He still has the shell?"

"Goes in his pocket every day—well, when he actually has pockets. Usually sets it on the dresser." Alfred confirmed, making the young Wayne go still in front of the canvas. "Quite the Christmas present." He said gently, watching carefully as Sam reached over and snaked away the music player.

"And just what were you going to do with this?" She asked, rattling the thing.

"Just wanted to see what he listens to."

" Oooh, But wouldn't asking suffice—never mind, it's Damian. May I?"

"Have at it." Del said, shaking her head before setting her eyes on the old butler once more. "Has Tim even tried coming out of his room?" She asked, watching the smile fall from his deep dark eyes.

"No, Miss. Master Tim has taken to locking his door now it seems."

"Uh…Del? I don't think you're going to believe this." At that the pair lifted their heads, forcing Del to reach up and catch the flying MP3 player, aware that music was all but leaking through the headphones. But as the girl put the earbuds in place, the player slid to the floor.

The artist and album may have read as unknown, but she knew these soft sharp notes. She knew when they'd rise and when they'd fall…because she had played them. "It's…it's me." Del uttered. "This is from my recital when I was eleven, you know, the one I messed up on and went improve to try and fix it?" Offering the headphones to Alfred, she could see the man's wrinkles going slack, forcing him to eye the display screen.

"My word. By the dates, they've been on here for years." He said, handing the device back to her, letting her see the dates for herself. _He would've been six years old. He's been listening to my music all this time. There's no way Talia would've allowed that…if she even knew._ "Master Damian is full of surprises." The man murmured, casting an eye to the softly knotted book cover under Sam's diligent fingers. "Just what do you have there, Miss Cleary?"

"A book for my brother. To teach me Irish, Gramps used to tell me stories. So I've been translating them for Jordon."

"Alfred, you can speak Irish, right? Do you think you could give Sam a hand?"

At that the girl with the book beneath her hands gave a foolish kind of grin. "Writing and reading it is another matter for me." She stated.

"I would be glad to, Miss Cleary, however you'd have to suffer sitting in the kitchen with me while I make tea. You should join us,Miss Wayne."

"Sure…but let me check on Tim first."

* * *

He wasn't sure when he became aware of that rattling door, or when the sound of tumblers and metal tore him from the thought of his father's casket sliding into that frozen ground beside his mother. "I could've sworn I locked that door." He said bitterly, not even bothering to peel his head up from the deep set windowsill and the gray sea just out of his reach. It must've been Alfred trying to force some food down his throat again.

"It was." Her voice seemed to pry his heavy eyes open. "I picked it." She said, sounding quite amused with herself. But then again, was he really that surprised?

"You not going to gripe at me for not eating, are you?" He muttered, letting his cheek rest against the windowsill as he strained to listen for her feet moving on the carpet. He never heard a thing.

"No." The word was soft and almost as warm as the palm resting at the base of his neck, eating at that dull ache of his unmoving muscles. But before he could so much as lift his heavy head, he could feel the cushion giving beside him.

"What are you, a monkey?" he asked, as the girl sank in the empty space behind him, all but hugging him from behind as her legs dangled beside his. "You're warm." He uttered, feeling her head rest into his back as her arms snaked around him, as if she were pressing her hands into his heart.

"You're kinda cold." She answered, letting her hands run up and down the chilly bare skin of his arms as if she were trying to warm them back up. As if she were trying rub the life back into him. But she said nothing more, it was like she knew he just wanted to exist and nothing more. Nothing but a lump of limbs and tangled hands, it wasn't hard to let his lungs fall into sink with hers. If he sat still enough, he could feel her pulse hammering away as if it were working for them both. He wasn't sure how long she'd lulled there with him before something actually came out of him.

"You should've seen how excited he was about that damn statue. It was like—like watching him come back to life. I mean, he'd been undone for so long. I didn't even see—I was so wrapped up in my own shit that I couldn't—I was so mad at him! I was mad at them both for so long and for what?! So much time wasted for nothing!"

"It wasn't 'nothing'." Del said suddenly, her warm breath coiling at the back of his neck as she worked her chin over his shoulder. "Or did you forget I was at the museum? I saw the way you two worked together, the way you guys would kinda smirk at each other like you were speaking in code. That wasn't 'nothing'. Maybe it took a while for you two to come to an understanding, but at least you made it there, didn't you?"

"Yeah…it just—it just seems so short." He whispered, flexing his fingers over hers. "I get it now." He said suddenly, lifting his head. "Why you let go the way you did. It hit me last night when I just couldn't look for the bastards anymore. I can even understand why Bruce thinks the way he does…" The teen said, "And that scares me…being able to think like Batman."

"I know." She murmured, pressing her lips to the crown of his head. "But understanding a thought process doesn't mean you have to entertain it." She said gently, feeling his hands slide up her arms. "Look on the bright side—at least you're not related to him." She said, getting a dry chuckle out of him.

"There is that." He managed. "I can't believe that they'd planned this arrangement. I always thought my dad hated him. I never thought he'd be brazen enough to ask Bruce to…take me in. I mean, I'm sure a part of him was a little jealous, that I'd spent so much time with the man during his coma."

"And here you're hanging out with his daughter, oh, joy."

"You kidding me? He liked you—most of the time. He'd tease me so bad. Poor Dana never had a clue." Dana. At the sound of the woman's name coming out of his mouth the boy let his head hang. Shit. It'd taken him a while to warm up to her…and now it all seemed like a far off memory. Losing her husband had broken her beyond repair. "I wish there was more I could do for her…but it's like she doesn't even know who I am." Shaking his head he let it rest on his hands, feeling that warm mouth press so lightly on his ear. "I just feel so fucking useless."

"You're not useless. Besides, it's not like I can take one of my brothers to Pike's party. How awkward would that be?" The champagne bottles, how could he forget about those?

"Awkward? Try creepy." He uttered, prying her hand from his chest so he could inspect the paint splatter. "What's this?"

"Been working on Dad's Christmas present." She said with a sigh. "I know Gotham probably thinks we go nuts around the holidays, and maybe we did when I was little, but it's usually a more thoughtful, smaller affair—it just never seems to actually take place on Christmas. We get to it when we get to it." But no sooner had the words all but fall out of her mouth, did it hit her, this would be Tim's first Christmas without his family. "Aw, shit. Tim, I'm sorry I didn't even-"

"It's fine. A good chunk of my holidays were spent without them. So that part will feel kind of normal to me. I know how that sounds…" He said, letting his words trail off when her lips pressed into his neck. It was just a just a soft flash of heat, but it was still enough to melt his thoughts into nothingness.

"Well, you've never spent the holidays in the same house as Dick before, so this should be interesting." She all but purred, wiggling her eyebrows at him when he gave her a sidelong glance. It was enough to make a laugh burst out of him—a sound he seemed so unsure he'd made at all. "Sorry I picked your lock." She added, feeling his lips warm the top of her hand.

"I'm not."

* * *

One night of patrol led into another, blending the days together, and for that short span of time it was easy to forget. Forget about the blood spreading across the floor. Forget about the feel of that weakening pulse under his hand. Forget about fake statues, missing relics and the long sorrowful looks people gave him behind his back. But the moment it was over, the moment he realized the sun had beaten down the darkness—it all came flooding back.

At times, when he found himself hunkered down by a window he'd see that shapely form leaving tracks in the snow to get to the frozen pond. The same girl who'd skate until her face was red and the trees were all but ablaze with the sun was the same girl who continued to pick the locks on his door. The same girl who came toting sandwiches or coffee, and would just sit there beside him, paying no mind to the drafts that leaked through the edges of the window or the peels of warm sunlight that stretched across their faces. Everyone let him brood…but she never let him do it alone.

Was it the sound of feet sticking to the tile that made his eyes spring open? Or maybe his brain wasn't ready to shed the night's events. Resolutions, glitter, one soft wet kiss and poison—copious amounts of poison. Unable to keep his eyes closed, Tim forced himself from his bed, ignoring the slivers of pale gray sunlight that was stretching across the floor. The door came open with a small groan, forcing the teen to wince as he peered into the half eaten darkness to stare at the wet trail of footprints that trailed toward those familiar doors. _Del_…

* * *

"_I have the bottles, but there's a problem."_ It was the last thing she wanted hear, her lips were still tingling from where Tim's had been, her sigh slipping into the whoops of joy and glitter that was falling into her the little Robin's voice all but made her blood run cold. _"One of them is missing."_ _Oh no. _It was enough to make the both of them lift their heads as the sound of popping corks rang out into the chorus like gunshots. Flutes were everywhere. _We're too late, there's no way to tell which ones…which ones are poison._ "Sam! There's a water sprinkler system! Can you-"

"_On it!" _ But the sound of screams seemed to reach her before the sprinklers above their heads spat down upon them. No sooner had the room erupted into shrieks of terror and dozens of soaked teens began running for the exit, did the girl spot a body on the floor.

_And they're just…trampling over her! _ Just to get to her, it was like pushing against current of scared wet bodies, but the girl skid to her knees aware of the water that was turning pink around her as she reached over out to turn the girl over, feeling everything inside her jolt when she stared into a familiar face. _Marley Glozman…one of the seven._

"I don't know what's happening…to me." Del wasn't sure how she understood the words over the noise and the soft gurgling of blood that the girl was choking on. _You're overdosing on MDMA. _ "It burns! It burns so bad!" In the midst of her thrashing the girl latched onto her, forcing Del's gaze from the flashing of lights that was cascading through the window. _She can feel the venom too? _"Help me…please help me…"

"I want to. I want to help you. But I don't—I don't know how!" Del cried, grabbing ahold of the girl's wet hand as it lost its grip on her dress—the red pool around them only seemed to be growing. _I don't want to look into her eyes…I don't want to watch her die. _Her dark brown eyes were already dull, the whites turned pink by her bloody tears. Del wasn't sure if Marley was even gripping her hand anymore. But when she felt someone grip her shoulders, her entire body jumped.

"Del. Del, you have to get out of the way." Lifting her head up to the shadow that was all but leaning over her, she could see the uniforms that had built up behind her—their faces were as pale as the gurney that had been wheeled in with them.

"Don't…don't let go…"

"I have to let them through…they could…" But as that limp hand slid from hers, Delilah could feel her stomach dropping to her feet. "…save you."

* * *

He could feel the music pulsing under his feet long before he reached those doors. She certainly wasn't worried about waking the dead or anyone else for that matter. It wasn't like anyone else in this empty place ever slept. It was only in that long stretching hall of rattling windows did he find himself pulled to the only open room like a moth in search of light.

Squinting into the broad bands of sunlight, Tim paused by the open doors, watching as the girl leapt in the air to lash out at the floating orbs around her. _"They only disengage after they've been struck the amount of times you've set—and I'm not talking little love taps either."_ Sam was awfully proud of her little creations, but honestly they looked like mini death stars. And Del was holding them off—all five of them.

Wading into that icy bright room that smelled faintly of chlorine, he watched her duck, strike and twist toward the next object causing the sheen of her blade to dance across the ceiling. Only when she smashed one of the little death stars into the wall, did he notice the droplets at her feet. Was it from the wet strands of her hair? Or was she… But just as Tim felt himself peeling away from the wall, the music shut off, forcing Del's head to pop up as the orbs suddenly fell dead at her feet.

"Sam thought I might need this. I think she was right." She'd been so quick, fluid even, and now? Now the girl seemed to be shaking as she held her weight up with the hilt of her sword. "Certainly doesn't look like your floor routine." Dick added from the doorway, still wiggling that small remote in his hand.

"I was fine."

_You're not now. _Tim thought, watching her hand reach up to her face to swipe at the edges of her eyes before the tears started to escape. "So this is what _fine_ looks like?" Dick asked, as he slid through the threshold. "If crazy is the new fine, we're in trouble." He said, kicking the sword from her grip. The air was lodging in Tim's lungs, but before his feet could reach the edge of the mat when he thought the girl might crumble, but Dick never let her.

"I should've known how to help her! I-I couldn't even lie to her!"

"That's probably a good thing. You're a terrible liar." Tim wasn't sure what he heard muffled into Dick's chest, a laugh, a sob or something in between. But for a long moment, the two seemed to be melded together, casting one large lumpy shadow on the wall.

"For once Grayson's right." The sound of Damian's voice only seemed to make the shadow break into pieces. "But only this once." Damian added, letting his eyes flick from the motionless orbs on the floor to the girl who was mopping her face. The silence he brought with him only seemed to deepen as he moved across the floor, his fingers clutched tightly around something bound in cloth. Without a word he thrust the object at her.

Unknotting the binding, Del pulled the black material away, revealing a black and yellow hilt and a shiny new blade stretched out in her grip._ I know this pattern...this is Sam's pattern but… _

"Damian bound the hilt himself." The teen could only glance up at the girl who was slithering along the wall, ignoring Damian's face as it twisted into a sneer.

"You weren't supposed to tell her! What the hell are you doing here anyway, Fatty?!"

"I got a call—someone thought Del might need a friend." Sam said simply, letting her shoulders slide down the wall as she shrugged. "I don't get up this early for my health—and just who are you calling fat?!"

Letting the cloth pool at her feet, Del twisted away, letting the blade cut through the air with a hiss, unlike that thing Talia had left for her, this piece of steel felt light in her hands. "Who do you think? It wasn't like I was talking about Miss Thunder Thighs."

"Careful, Damian, let's not forget she snapped a neck with those thighs." Dick warned.

"Guys, I can hear you."

"I know, I wouldn't have said it otherwise." The boy hissed, letting his eyes slide down the blade as the point came to rest under his chin.

"If you wanted a fight, all you had to do was say so." Without wasting any time Damian swiped the fallen sword from the ground, letting the room fill with the sound of metal scraping against metal. If Del didn't know any better she'd say that creepy little smirk was pulling on his mouth.

"Then I say so, Thunder Thighs."

"_Del_…didn't we just cover this?" Dick asked with an exasperated breath. "You know, the whole 'fine doesn't mean crazy' thing?"

"But crazy runs in this family, I thought you knew that?"

"Shut up Grayson, I just want to make her bleed a little."

Dick seemed to roll his eyes at th ceiling while the shadows circled around the walls. "I see your point."

* * *

It was like the rest of Gotham was waking from a drunken stupor, the streets were nearly empty say for the vacant footprints in that exhaust colored snow. And those who actually braved the cold seemed to be gray in the gills. How many had even seen the headlines awaiting them when they staggered for their coffee pots? Marley Glozman, the heiress of Gotham's own publishing house…was dead. _What a way to start the New Year. _The Glozman's had to bury their only child.

Del could feel the frown weighing her lips down before that thick arm caught her by the neck, pulling her away from the frost covered glass of the paper rack. "C'mon, Squirt. Don't let it eat you alive." The feel of his whisper melting the cold off her ear forced the teen to rip her gaze from that familiar face. "We'll figure it out." And just like that he was tugging her back into the fold, back into the soft laughter and clouded breaths, back to the feel of snow on her cheek and the smell of pancake syrup that was lingering in the air from the diner they'd just left.

"I hope so." _Who would want to poison people like this? And why? _But the more she tried to think of it, the more she found herself being squashed into Dick's side.

"So what are you going to do for your floor routine? You don't have a lot of time to work on it you know."

"I hate floor."

"Really?" Sam chimed, twisting her head back at the pair as she skipped along the cracks in the sidewalk. "I happen to like your routines."

"I don't mind the skills, it's all the frilly choreography in the middle that pisses me off. I just want to do something different than that synchronized mat rolling." Delilah said bitterly, glancing as Damian stretched his arms lazily behind his head—completely oblivious to the world. _He's still listening to that player I gave him. _

"Well, what you and Damian do looks pretty cool—minus the blood…and the collateral damage. I mean…I know what you guys are doing is meant for combat situations, but all those aerial skills?" With that Sam shrugged. "With this sibling stuff you guys kinda skipped the beginner mode and went straight for hardcore." She said as she twisted about to shoot Del a grin. "Just what the hell did you put on that thing?"

At that Del stole a glance at that dark haired head that was strolling in front of them. "Just music and pictures." She said gently, pausing to listen to the notes that were humming out of the boy's headphones. She half expected him to make some smart ass comment, but he simply stopped dead in front of another paper rack.

"What the _hell_ is _that_?!" He snarled suddenly, ripping the earbuds out of his ears, not even sparing Sam a glance as she tried to hold her manic giggles behind her gloved fingers. Del could feel the blood rushing to her face as Dick suddenly staggered beside her.

She could still remember Tim's shirt crinkling under her fingers when the dug into him. She could still feel the glitter sliding down her eyelids, and the feel of his breath skirting across her face just before his lips found hers in that that moment of darkness.

For just that moment, they had all but melted together—there was nothing but the feel of her sinking into his chest and the weight of his hands when he'd captured her face. But in that brief minute someone else had captured the moment…and sold it to _Gotham Noir_. Now the entire world could see Delilah Wayne kissing Timothy Drake. _Oh shit._

"When I said you guys should kiss and make up I didn't think you'd take me seriously!" Dick cried, turning on his heel to the pale faced teen that was at his back, fisting his hands into the boy's coat. "Just remember I can make anything look like an accident." He grumbled, letting the collar of Tim's coat slide from his fingers.

"Screw that, I'll kill him now." But as Damian came charging toward them, Dick held up his hand, pushing into the boy's chest to stop him.

"You kill him and that means we won't get to see him squirm when Bruce finds out. Oh, this is gonna be good." The man chided, not even trying to hide that wicked grin that was spreading across his wind bitten face.

"Oh come on it's not like you and Barbra didn't do that kind of stuff."

"They still do." Sam said with a droll.

"Yeah, but Barb isn't related to the big guy." With that Dick thumped the pair on their heads. "You guys make a guy need a drink." He grumbled, ducking from the street to the convenience store they had stalled in front of. "Anyone else?" But when he got nothing but a couple of flushed faces and silly giggle he ducked inside shaking his head as he went.

"You know what he's going to say right?" Dick asked later as he wrangled that red faced sister of his by the neck. "No dating. Just justice."

"Geez, no he's not!" There. There was that sound of her laugh peeking through that voice that'd been coated by cold. At least for this second she wasn't thinking about the dead girl and the nagging of self-doubt. Glancing ahead he could see Tim squeezing the back of his neck as Sam skipped around him, poking and laughing like a troublesome sprite.

"So are you guys serious or something?" He asked, twisting the cap from his bottle.

"I don't…I don't know." Then again, had she ever had any examples of a healthy relationship? Bruce wasn't exactly the best role model in that department. And neither was he. He and Babs seemed to be stuck in this on again off again kind of pattern. Maybe in time she'd figure that out for herself."That better not be a Zesti Cola."

"_No Mom_. It's not." He groaned, showing her the label of the lemonade bottle before he took a swig. "Can I give you a little bit of unsolicited advice?" He asked as he gave that silly thing a squeeze. He wasn't about to let her jump subjects. "Enjoy the moments when they're good and don't you dare feel guilty for them, no matter what relationship you're in."

Feeling Dick stagger, Del peeled her eyes from her gloved fingers and the mashed snow of the sidewalk. "Okay…" She muttered, glancing up when she felt the weight of his arm sliding from her. The bottle in his hand fell to the pavement, forcing the glass to break right there at his feet. "Dick? You okay?" She asked. Her breath had barely begun to swarm into a cloud before that long legged thing crumbled to the pavement, dotting it red with the blood that had trickled from his mouth. "DICK!" _No! No! No! This isn't real! This isn't happening! _But as the girl hit her knees and scrambled to his side it hit her. Her bird was broken. "Dickybird!"

* * *

**AN: Next chapter - Deal with the Devil**


	32. A Deal With The Devil

"Dick…I don't know if I can do this." It wasn't the music pulsing under my feet that made my heart feel like it about to break free from my chest. It wasn't the sudden flash of cameras or the shimmer of glitter woven in the leotards around me that made the tips of fingers itch. I could feel my fingers digging into my arms, gripping my jacket to into my skin as a watched the girl sail from the uneven bars, her body twisting and moving through the air before she hit the mat. It was that overwhelming roar of the stands that seemed to erupt the moment she lifted her graceful arms to the air.

I couldn't stop my gaze from sliding to the dead spot in the crowd. _The second they say my name…they're gonna wonder where he is. People are gonna wonder why he isn't here. _But the second I felt that heavy hand rest on my shoulder the thoughts wandered off, dissipating in the garbling boom of the announcements above our heads.

"Start stretching. I'll be waiting to catch you when you tank." By the time my head snapped around to shoot him a glare, those long lips were already curling. "Or…I'll just stand there and look pretty." My mouth had barely given in to a smile when I found my head lifting to watch a somersaulting body leap from the spring board to the bars. _They're all so good_… But just as the doubt began to nibble, Dick was tapping me on the cheek. "Just imagine we're at home. Okay?"

"What if—what if I _do_ fall?" I asked, shedding my jacket as the arena filled with applause. But to his credit, Dick just shrugged.

"So what." I was frozen. What the hell did he mean 'so what'? Didn't he know how many people would see me eat mat? Or who those people might be? Didn't he happen to notice all those thick stately W's hanging around the stadium? _No_ _pressure_. I must've been hesitating. I must've let my eyes cling to that name I saw dangling at every corner because that shadow was crouching down in front of me. "All that matters is that you get back up and you finish your routine. Score or no score. Right?"

"Right." And yet the word seemed so stale in my mouth. From the moment that veil was lifted my cage became glass. Every move I made was under scrutiny. I wasn't just Del anymore. I was Delilah Wayne, the heiress. It was a weight that would follow me everywhere I went. Even here…my first regional competition. I suppose Dad was just trying to be supportive in his own way, but it only made the shadow that much larger.

"You enjoy gymnastics, don't you?" Standing there with his hands weighing on my shoulders I could only see the darkness smudging under his eyes like bruises. Familiar as the marks were, it hit me just how much Dick had sacrificed to make this happen. All the hours spent toting me to my meets, all those nights that his voice rose to match my father's—all the special arrangements he had to make to bend to my father's will. When my father put his foot down, ending the majority of our secret ventures to the gym, Dick stepped in, becoming my coach as well as my cheerleader. It was the only outcome Dad would begrudgingly accept.

I suppose I was lucky that the gym was willing to keep me as an independent study and that I had an acrobat for a brother. Of course he was an acrobat who knew absolutely squat about the ins and outs of competitive gymnastics—but he took his beating with the rulebook gracefully. And he did it…for me.

Only when my head bobbed did his lips move, letting those dark blue eyes slide down on me. "I hope you're doing it for _Delilah_ and no one else." His words had barely faded into the sound of clapping, when I realized yet another competitor was stretching her hands to the sky. It was enough to force my jellied limbs to move from the sidelines to the heat of the lights. I could hear the silence rolling through the stadium as my name reverberated through the walls. No one clapped, but that was alright. I could see my brother's dark head giving me the slightest of nods as he dropped the springboard in place. It didn't matter that my box seats were empty. It didn't matter that my very name laced the air with whispers. I wasn't there for them.

From the moment I sprung off the board I knew—I could do more than survive in the shadow around me. I could thrive. Even with the weight of expectation, I could fly. I might fall…but the man below me would never let me reach the ground.

* * *

"We were able to stop the bleeding." The soft words slipping through the crack in the door were enough to peel me from my daze, ripping me from the height of the bars and feel of chalk in the creases of my palms. Unceremoniously dumped back into the reality, I squinted at the burnt orange lines of the tile, trying to make sense of the hum around me. Propped along the wall I realized the ache I felt was my own spine, but I couldn't uncurl myself from the wadded leather coat in my lap. It still smelled like him.

Somehow the thought only brought back the image of that long body convulsing under frantic hands. I didn't even realize I was fighting so hard to get into the room until the doctor lifted his head and shouted for someone to get us out. In times like those my feet would ache to pace the floor and yet somehow I found myself sliding down the wall, swallowing at the air as I begged for the sound of the heart monitor to begin again. Only when that shrill beep slipped from under the door did I sink to the floor, letting loose a collective sigh with the bodies that were grouped around me. _Still alive._

I don't quite remember reaching for the phone, or even dialing the number. I just remember counting the rings. _One. Two_. Silence. Or maybe there was a breath? A start of a _Hello?_ Or _What?_ Maybe _Talk_. I don't know. I just remember a single word shaking out me. "Daddy?" I couldn't hear the panic in the hospital lobby, or the whine of the sirens. All I could hear was my own swallowing as I listened to the line go still. Almost as if he wasn't quite sure if I used the unspoken code word for trouble—but then…

"Where are you?"

"Gotham Memorial." The words were falling out of me so fast I don't even know how he kept them straight. "It's Dick. His drink was laced." Just like that the phone clicked in my ear. Dad was on his way—and yet that foreboding weight that pulled me to the floor, kept me there long after he arrived.

"Had it not been for all the bags of ice the kids packed around him to keep his temperature down, he may not have made it here at all." I could hear Damian's hissing scoff beside me. He and I both knew the convenience store clerk had some choice words for us…until he saw Dick bleeding out on the sidewalk. Tim's quick thinking, really. _You froze_. Pressing my cheek into my knees I could only strain to listen through the cracked door "But the venom-we've never seen anything like it. It's spreading faster than we can handle."

"I was under the impression that ingesting venom was harmless, how did it get into his bloodstream?"

"Normally ingesting something like that wouldn't cause an issue. But anyone who may have an internal tear or in Mr. Grayson's case, an ulcer, has a chance of it getting in the bloodstream. I'm sorry to say he's not the only case we've had." _Marley Glozman. No wonder she felt like she was burning from the inside out. _

"Hey, is it safe to go in yet?" Hearing that familiar voice echo down the hall, I worked myself to my feet as Barbra wheeled herself toward us. _Dad must've called her…_

"I don't know. Mr. Wayne hasn't even come out yet." Sam uttered. Staring at the two of them, I could only see the likeness in their faces. _Why couldn't I see that before? _

"You can go in. It's just the rest of us who are in exile." I grumbled, blowing out a breath when she reached over and gave my hand a squeeze, squashing Dick's coat beneath our palms.

"Damn Birdbrain." But even as that thin smile touched her lips, I could see nothing but that dead space floating just behind her glasses. Love him or hate him. She didn't want to lose him either.

* * *

"So what's this crap about you making Barb cry?" Dick's water bottle never made it to his mouth. It just paused there in the air.

"Where did you hear that?" He asked, watching me stretch my fingers in my grips as I smeared them with chalk. "_Delilah_…"

"Sam." I said simply, shrugging as I darted for the low bar, aware that my big brother was inspecting my every move. "Oh, c'mon." I groaned, watching his shoulders slip into a shrug. "We both know that's where you've been spending your time." In the meantime he was driving Sam up a wall. Changing the settings on her monitors, using her keyboards with his buttery fingers, eating her cereal and leaving the boxes behind—those were the kind of things that made a person crazy, but they didn't warrant strangulation. Except for making Barb cry. Sam had a problem with that. Hell, _I_ had a problem with that. Barbra didn't cry easily. "So what did you do this time?" I asked, swaying on the bar.

"It's not what you think." He protested, crossing his arms as he his gaze moved from my hands to my face. "It's nothing I did."

"Enlighten me then."

"Er…no. No way. Now, are you done goofing around?"

"Aw, why not?" I cried, watching my own shadow stretch along the mat below me as I lifted myself in the air.

"Because you'll blab to Sam! That's why!" He shot back. I was only teasing, but Dick? It wasn't like this was the first time he ever snapped at me, but it still made my flesh prickle.

"Gee, thanks for trusting me, _Bro_." I sneered, ignoring the snap of his head as swung to the high bar. Even with the bar's rattling I could hear his sigh hissing from his lips.

"It would kill Babs." He said, paying no mind to me as the words had me dropping to the mat. "You so much as breathe a word—"

"You know me better than that." I didn't mean to be indignant or so terse, but it was enough to make those dark blue eyes go narrow. "You're not the only one who cares about Barb. Stop glaring at me like that. It makes your eyes look small." I could feign indifference to his sudden solemnity, but let's be honest—I've never been comfortable with his somberness. Dad? Normal. Dick? Not so much.

"_Not a word_. You understand?"

"Yeah-"

"No, Del. I want to hear you say it." Something about those words made my pulse race. I waited a moment hoping to see a hint of that goofy smile, a wink or the making of one of his lazy shrugs. But the shadows only seemed to deepen the creases in his face.

"I promise." Only then did he pry that hard gaze from me, his shoulders rolling as he shuffled to shut the open doors…but not before I saw his head tilt down the hall. Something _was_ wrong. "Dick?" But he just stood there with his hands resting on the doorknobs.

"When Sam needed her transplants Bab's had a test done to see if they were a match. They weren't." He started, twisting away from the door. "But when she got the full analysis in the mail…she noticed something that didn't make sense to her." Easing to the mat I reached out and gave the thing a pat. Dick moved closer but he didn't sit down, I'm not sure his nerves would let him. "So Babs ran her own tests. Sam's _not_ her cousin, Del." He said reaching up to squeeze the back of his neck. "Sam's her little sister."

"Wait! What?! You're kidding right?!"

"Gordon confirmed it when she confronted him with it. Tore them both up. Evelyn Gordon gave birth to a little girl when she was seventeen. And because she was still a baby herself, her big brother and his wife adopted the child as their own. That way Evelyn could still be a part of her daughter's life and have the freedom to finish growing up."

"Whoa."

"Yeah. And when Bab's went to talk to Evelyn about it—she flipped her lid. That's two mother figures that've cut her off at the knees." _Barb…is Sam's sister?_ Letting the weight of his words sink in, I let myself flop back on the mat, watching him hesitate before he sank down across from me. "_That's_ why she was crying."

"Poor Barb. I mean it kinda explains why Mrs. Gordon could walk away from her so easily after her divorce." Up to this point I could never wrap my brain around the idea of a mother cutting all ties with her child—I still don't know how the woman could've raised her as her own and not form some kind of attachment after all that time. "But Evelyn's always been so supportive of Barb I don't understand…I mean she made her family move here because she wanted to be closer to her."

Evelyn Cleary came dangerously close to losing her oldest child, no wonder she wanted to be closer to Barbra. But then…why would she shut her down like that? Why not come clean? What changed?

"I don't know what Sam's told you, but her mother hasn't been herself lately." Dick said quietly. "I think this splitting up business is really screwing with things, and that's why Bab's doesn't want Sam to know. That's too much at once. _Now_ do you understand why you can't breathe a word?"

* * *

We've got another one!" I don't know if it was pure curiosity or just habit that made me watch the scrubs build up around the gurney that had burst through the door. "There's more on the way."

"_More_? How many more?!"

"Too many. We don't have the capacity for them all. We have to split them with Gotham General the best we can. May have to make a call to Metropolis. People are dropping like flies." I couldn't keep my eyes on the slack faces around me. All I could concentrate on was the whirring of wheels and the trail of blood stretching down the hall. _People are going to die if we don't do something. _

"Del?" At the sound of my name falling from Tim's mouth, I peeled my eyes from winding red stain on the floor. "You dropped something." I didn't hesitate to swipe the wad keys off the floor, squeezing the things until the teeth began to bite into my palms. They felt as cold as ice in my hand. _Cold…the cold was keeping him alive. _It was as if my legs were unfurling themselves, urging me forward before I could change my mind. "Cold." _You know who to see._

"Del?"

I couldn't even answer Sam's uncertain voice as I stared down at the keys in my hand. _Dick's bike keys are on here, and the apartment isn't far. _But as the thoughts were all but racing through my head, I could see Tim sliding from the wall, his brow furrowing. Damian was pulling his headphones from his ears. Would they try to stop me? _I don't have the time to find out. Dick doesn't have that kind of time. _

"A deal's a deal, Dickybird." _I fucking hate Arkham, but he'd do it for me._ Letting that heavy coat swallow me whole, I could see Damian rising from his chair. "If Dad asks, I'll be right back." Not that I thought he would, it'd be a while before he even knew I was gone.

"Just what do you intend to do?"

"Keep my promise." One of my birds was falling; I couldn't let him reach the ground.

* * *

_This isn't something Batgirl can do. _But the simple thought offered little solace in the darkness of Arkham's catwalk. _It's not the dark you're afraid of. _And yet, the girl found her gaze latching onto the pools dingy light scattered out before them. No, surely it wasn't the darkness, not with so many voices swirling around her. Peeking through the grates at her feet, she could see a flash of that bright orange fabric and those black stained letters. The sight was enough to make her lungs clutch at the air. Did she trust these riot shields to keep her safe? No, not if someone got a wild hair up their ass. An heiress would make a perfect hostage. _And then I'll be up shit creek_. "Nearly there, Miss…" It wasn't like she had time to wait for the block to be put on lockdown.

With the officer's words reaching through the chaos, Del let the air in her lungs hiss from her lips, growing still as they pushed a curious onlooker to the side. Only when _his_ voice slithered to her ear did the teen pause there on the catwalk, stalling the guards behind her as the chills crept up her spine. "Well now, Girly. Haven't come to see me have you?" The smell of stale cigarettes and sweat reached her before she could make out the gangly shape. Sure enough, there was the glow of a cherry blurring in the plexiglass. She didn't have to see the man to imagine that broken toothed smile on St. James' face.

_He wants a response_. Hell, he just wanted to see her squirm. "Can we keep going please? I don't have time for this." But only the next sound stilled her determined feet.

"Look who we have here! Delilah Wayne! Tell me Sweetie, does your daddy know where you are?" Nothing made the flesh on her arms rise quite like the sudden hush that rolled through the dayroom like a wave. It was the kind of silence that made her knees beg to tremble as her every step echoed through the rusted place making the tension so palpable she could've choked on it. _You're almost to the lab_. But as the girl eyed the double doors that seemed so far away, something else stepped in front of those clear shields.

"Stand back!" The bark of a command only seemed to summon a raw sort of laughter from the small group that cut across their path.

"You do realize, Sarge, that there are more of us than you, right? Simple math." She wasn't sure who had thrown her against the wall in the midst of the rush to close ranks. But in the middle of willing the breath back in her lungs, she could hear that creep's voice in the rising confusion. "Someone out there really doesn't like you, Girly." The overwhelming smell of blood reached her long before that uniformed body in front of her staggered, back, knocking Del to the floor. _Shit! We're being overrun! _

It was only out of instinct that her long fingers pressed into the guard's neck, but as St. James' boot came down, pressing the shield and his sole into the man's chest, the blood on seemed to squeeze through the cracks in her fingers. "I mean…_really_ doesn't like you." The flash of metal had barley caught her eye before she the familiar roll of blood touched her cheek. The shiv in his hand was definitely sharp enough. "It's kinda got me in a dilemma. The boys here want to keep you alive." He murmured paying no mind to the gurgling man underfoot. "But someone else wants you dead." The words left him like a sigh, and yet the point of that razor blade never left her. "See what I mean?"

"Sounds like a personal problem." The blade bobbed against her throat, sending that itchy trickle down her shirt_. I don't have anything on me except…_ Only the sound of a slow clap seemed to make the one eyed man turn his head—and the girl squeeze harder on the ball of keys in her pocket.

"A smart ass to the end, Eh, Toots?" No sooner had that familiar voice crushed the sudden hum, did Del catch a hand curling around St. James' shoulder. "No one makes a move around here unless_ I_ say so, you got it, _Bub_?" The threat however only made that razor dig harder into Del's skin.

"I don't answer to you, you freak-"

The muscle's in her arm all but shook, forcing her to grip the keys until they tore into her fingers. The man's sudden shriek made her rip her arm back, the keys peeking through her fingers tipped with blood. "I warned you, you son of a bitch!" But St. James only crashed to his knees, blood oozing between his fingers as he clutched at his eye. It was strange how well his shrieking could meld into that maddened laugh.

Just as quick as the laugh died, did those alabaster hands grip into St. James' chest. There wasn't even enough space to for him to scream before he went over the railing, making a thump somewhere on the floor below. Smacking his hands together, the clown's thick red lips curled to the apples of his cheeks. "Whoops!" Del couldn't hear anything beyond her own pulse as the clown finally turned to her. "Couldn't let you have _all_ the fun." He said, giving a wide shrug before turning about and heading for the stairs as if he were on nothing more than a leisurely stroll. "Hell, _I_ don't like you." With that he waved his hand in the air, signaling the inmates to release their captive jailers. "But you made me laugh. Today's you're lucky day, Toots. We'll have to play again sometime."

* * *

Del wasn't sure if it was the chill of the laboratory that made her muscles shiver so hard or if the adrenaline wasn't quite through with her. Pulling Dick's coat closer around her, her fingers only stuck together as the blood between her fingers began to dry. _What the fuck just happened? He had a chance to kill me..._ Come to think of it, only the officer that St. James stabbed in the neck was badly injured. St. James was on that list too. But now? Now he'd see nothing but darkness. Strange how satisfying that could be.

"Do make sure you don't touch anything." With that deep request echoing through the sterile space, Del could only force herself to nod, shoving the thoughts away with a single clouded breath. _That's right, you're here for a reason. _The words didn't make her want to leave the doorway, instead she froze there, the bloody patch of her jeans all but sticking to her skin as she eyed the back of Dr. Fries' head. "Now, what could _you _possibly want from _me_?" The pale man asked, setting those garnet lenses on her. As quick as he lifted his gaze he let it slide again.

"People are dying-"

"People die every day, Miss Wayne. It's of little consequence to me."

Her limbs all but jolted forward, half itching with panic and half numb in her own boots. _You have cards to play, Del, and he knows what they are. _"I need your help." Del said simply, trying to ignore dull ache in her ears or that disinterested flick of his gaze. "You know about the tampering cases, don't you?"

His hands stilled a moment, pausing with the vials in the air. "Surely you don't intend to bore me with something I can hear about on the nightly news—"

"The contaminated bottles are also laced with venom." The words were falling out of her so fast that she was clouding the air around her. "We don't have an anti-venom for it and if continues to spread—" _Dick will die. _Forcing herself to pause long enough to swallow, she could see Dr. Fries twisting toward her. Oh, he knew an emotional weakness when he heard it. "There has to be some way to stop it until an anti-venom can be made. Even if it means putting them in a type of cryonic sleep." Now he was facing her completely. "You're the only one I know with skill to make that happen." If anyone one could do it, it was the madman that the papers had dubbed 'Mr. Freeze.' The very man who was staring at her now, half smiling as if he knew what was coming.

"And just what would I get for being the savior of these wretches—"

"Nora." The word shot out of her before she could take it back, making that smile seem to glow as it spread across his face. "I'll arrange a visit." It was hard to imagine that the man before her had once been a promising scientist. Victor Fries was a man who devoted his entire career to the study of cryogenics— a man who still obsessed over one of Wayne Enterprises' best kept secrets. Nora Fields.

"Oh? You know about my wife do you?" _Wife. _Forcing her nails into her palms, Delilah nodded, trying to pay no attention to the tremble that rolled down her spine. "You Waynes must parade her around like some circus act!"

"Actually…the only reason I know about her…is because I found her on accident." To be honest, it bothered her that there was a woman from 1943 in a frozen sleep deep within Wayne Tower. At the age of twenty three, Nora Fields was diagnosed with an incurable heart condition. With a full life ahead of her, her family placed her in a cryonic sleep in hopes a cure could be found in the future. It would be years before Dr. Victor Fries would become a researcher at Wayne enterprises. "I know you wrote your thesis on her." The girl uttered, feeling her own pulse pounding through her fingers. "I've read it."

With the weight of his vehement words still hanging in the air, the lines in his face softened letting his lips begin to curl. "As I recall you've got a heart condition of your own. Hits close to home, doesn't it Miss Wayne? I bet your father's kicking himself now, isn't he?"

_I also know she became an obsession and that you became delusional. _In his mind, he was in love with a woman he'd never met, married to her even! A woman who was old enough to be his own grandmother! It wasn't any wonder why her father pulled the plug on the project.

Victor Fries was so enraptured by his delusions, that when the project was scrapped he attacked her father, causing an accident with chemicals that would render him unable to live without subzero temperatures or the use of a cryogenic suit. She wasn't sure how many times the man had tried to infiltrate Wayne Enterprises to retrieve his beloved Nora. She only knew about the unease that filled her as she stood before the man now.

_I had nightmares about being frozen alive. If Dad had any regrets, it was that I found her at all. _ "Can you help?" She asked at last. If demented glee had a particular look, this albino thing was wearing it.

"You'll owe me." The words all but purred out of him, forcing the hair on the back of her neck to rise.

She couldn't stop the word. How could she when Dick's life was hanging in the balance? How many others would follow him? "Yes." Extending her hand, she let his cold palm press into her own. _You're making a deal with the Devil, Del. _ If it kept Dick alive, so be it.

* * *

Those charms—he'd know that sound anywhere. The bat and bird were battling again, smacking together with every determined step that hardheaded child of his took. When had his chiding about her unabashed support become so ineffective? "I'm sure you're partly to blame." With his elbows digging into his knees, he closed his eyes, listening to the sound of clanking metal as it resonated through the halls. "So am I…" Did she really think he wouldn't notice she was gone?

"Del? What the hell..." Bruce Wayne was still peeling the heavy weight of his head from his hands when the door gave, shedding light across the floor and filling the room with the musical tinkling of charms.

"I thought I told you to wait out—" One look at the pale shaking wraith who was easing her way into that dim room and he found himself shooting up from his chair. Was that blood on her face? But then there was something else wasn't there? Something she was clutching to her chest with all her might. _Wait, I know that canister._ The dread hit him in like a wave, forcing him to snatch her by the front of the jacket that was all but swallowing her whole. "What did you do?!"

Her eyes were wide, but her arms only tightened on the can as he yanked her toward the window, shedding that faint light on the blood that had long since dried on her face. The cuts weren't deep. It was a relief, but a small one. "You went to Arkham. Didn't you? Didn't you?!"

"Dad…" He wasn't sure if it was a croak or a whisper slipping out of her. "The door's open." And there were little gawking shadows building up around the hall. Giving a ragged hiss, he released her with a shove. Squinting into the light of the hall he could see those grimacing faces. "And you let her go?!" He snapped watching Tim and Sam trade looks.

"She didn't say where she was going."

"You and you. In here now." Only when Tim pulled himself from his chair and Damian darted in from the side of the door did he point at Sam. "And you-" He could see Barbra's careful gaze lifting from her coffee cup.

"Hey, I'll yell at that one when I feel damn good and ready to." With her even words the door slammed shut.

"Man, he's pissed."

"Ya think?"

"I didn't even do anything."

"Yet. You're related to me, remember?"

* * *

_His fingers are turning black. _Against Dick's weathered hand her own hand still seemed so small. No less callused, or lacking of scars, but thin and small none the less. It was strange for his fingers to hang so stiffly in her own. Any moment now, any moment they'd flex around hers, like they always did when she was little. But the monitor just continued to beat out behind her and his hand just sat there, limp against hers.

She didn't have to hear his footsteps to know he was there. His shadow seemed to blacken out what little light the night had given. Had it been that long? "I had to." She whispered, trying not to wither when she finally met his gaze.

"How many times?! How many times have we discussed this?! Don't you shrug those shoulders at me, Young Lady!"

"I had to do it! I promised him! I promised him, Dad!" She roared back, feeling her knee smack together as she rooted herself there by Dick's bed. "You of all people should know what it's like to keep a promise." She added, her voice softer now.

"Not at the expense of your own safety! Think! Think with your head!"

"Assuming she has one."

"_Shut up, Damian!" _

"Kinda creepy how they do that in unison."

"Oh, shut it, Drake."

"He'd do it for me." Del said bitterly, ignoring the pair altogether as she finally let her eyes settle on her father. Not the floor. Not her hands. Not this time. "Yes, it was stupid! Yes, it was risky! I'd do it again if it keeps him alive!" She snapped, smacking his hand away when he reached for her. "Did you notice his hands were turning black, Dad?!" She asked as she lifted Dick's hand toward him. The venom was slowly eating away at his flesh. "We _don't_ have the time to wait. That's why I went to Freeze." She murmured, letting her father peel Dick's hand away from her so he could turn it over in the light. "He gave me enough serum to put any patients affected by the venom in a light cryonic sleep. It should at least slow down the spreading long enough to find a working anti-venom."

"But there's not a way to bring them out of the state—not safely."

"Maybe not for someone as heavily sedated as Nora. He said it was a light state. The venom might still spread, but it should slow it down considerably." She uttered, aware that her father had yet to release Dick's hand. "It's just…"

"Buying time." The man put in. "What did he want?"

"What he always wants. But I told him I'd only arrange a visit if the serum actually worked." Beside her, her father was blowing out a steady breath. It didn't matter if he had to have Nora moved or Freeze. It'd be a mess either way.

"There's…one more thing." The girl said slowly, her fingers locking together in front of her. "We might get billed for someone else's medical expenses."

"By _we_, you mean _me_." The man grumbled, sighing at the ceiling before he tilted his head at the girl. "But go on."

"I kinda stabbed Nick St. James in the eye." She said hesitantly, trying to look anywhere in the room but at him. "He's blind." But just as he felt his mouth falling open she turned toward him. "I mean, I did warn the bastard that I'd take the other eye if he ever came at me." With that she simply shrugged.

"So you're telling me he did this?" Her father asked, reaching out and snagging the girl by the chin to eye the cuts again. "And Arkham wants to bill _me_ for it?"

"Yeah…pretty much. Never mind that it almost turned into a hostage situation."

"Cold day in Hell—Excuse me?"

"Or…that the Joker pretty much put a stop to it by throwing him off the catwalk—still can't wrap my brain around that one. Yay for power struggles in the cell block?" She squeaked, watching the man before her shake his head and point to the door.

"Home. Now. I-I can't even yell at you right now. Home. Damian, you too."

"What?! No way!"

"You and Del are homebound. Deal with it. Tim, I need you to keep an eye on Dick. No visitors. Anyone brings up his name, I want know who."

"Yes, Sir."

"What about Patrol?!"

"And the serum?"

"I'll see to the serum myself. No patrol. Not for any of you."

"Dad-"

"We'll discuss you're punishment later, but for now, consider yourself banned." He added throwing the door open.

"You're going out there aren't you?"

"Home. Now. At least I'll know that you're—" But then the man stopped himself, his lips thinning as he pressed them together. "Just go home and stay there. Alfred's already out front."

* * *

_What else…can I do? _Sinking into the shadows of her room should've filled her with solace. But then…he was there on every wall with that shit eating grin. Dick covered in mud with the ATVs they'd gotten stuck. Dick out cold in one of her pillow forts. Dick and Elinor the Elephant at Haly's Circus. He was everywhere. Squashing her in her in his arms, bouquet, medal, glitter shedding leotard—like any of that mattered.

"Jerk Face." She whispered, letting the nearest frame settle back on the shelf before she flopped back on the bed, squashing pillows, sleeping dogs and boxes all at once. Wait—boxes? Scrambling from the bed, Del yanked on the light switch, ignoring the Doberman's grumblings as she wrenched the plain white box out from under him. **To** _Squirt__**.**_** From**: _Some really awesome guy you happen to know. No, not Alfred. _Damn him! He wasn't even here and he'd managed to make her smile even if it was only to herself.

Prying the lid away she found another note setting on neatly folded leotard. _You'll do great. PS. As long as you don't break your neck. _"_Pfft_. Not gonna." She said, letting the note float down beside her as she gingerly plucked the black fabric from the box. Somehow the swirling feathers only made her lips ache. _Night wing blue._ She could feel the mattress giving as Jax slid from the bed, his nails tapping along the floor as he gave a lazy stretch, but her eyes were stuck on the leotard.

"If you start blubbering now—" _Damian._

"Just go away…" She groaned, letting the one-piece settle back in the box. But the boy didn't so much as budge. He just leaned there by the door with her dog rolling at his feet.

"It's just Grayson." Why? Why did his words rub her raw? Before she could think, her fingers grasped for the first thing they could find. To her chagrin the boy only stepped out of the way, letting her mother's journal smack against the wall and slide to the floor. "Your aim's still shoddy." He commented, watching the color rise in her cheeks.

"OUT!" But the command only seemed to roll down his back as Damian bent down to inspect the book at his feet. "GET OUT!" The second he rose from his haunches with her mother's journal in his hands, she found herself flying off the bed until his words froze her in place.

"What's this?" There peeking out of the seam of the leather cover was something silver. Like…a disc? Snatching the book from his hands, Del could feel the air becoming trapped in her lungs as she darted for her desk, ripping open drawers and slinging contents across the floor as she dug for something sharp. Never mind that Damian had yanked the journal away from her to slice the seam open further with a pocket knife of his own. "It's almost painful to watch you struggle." He grumbled, ever aware that his sister's hands were all but trembling when she lifted the disc from his nimble fingers. "I should put you out of your misery." He added. "So…what is it?"

"I don't know." _Why would Mom hide a disc in her journal? _But then…why does anyone hide anything so carefully? Without a word she shot from her desk and was out the door, certain that there was a boy and a traitorous dog just behind her. _The cave's locked so how… _"Alfred!" She was still leaping down the stairs when the old man peeked around the kitchen door, eyebrows raised, and mouth grim. "Alfred, I need your help." She panted, all but skidding to a stop before the man. "I need you to open the cave."

"Oh, no. We're not playing that game, Miss Wayne." He said tersely turning back to the screaming teapot without so much as a second look. But then there she was all but snatching the teapot away from him, slinging hot water across the floor as she shoved an unassuming disc at him.

"It's _Mom's_." The words were all but cracking, forcing the man to pause there. "It's Mom's, Alfred. It was hidden inside the cover of her journal. She wouldn't want just anyone to see it. Not if she went through all the trouble of hiding it there. Please, I have to know what's on it."

God, the girl was all but shaking right before his eyes. Taking the disc from her with careful hands, he sighed. "Just the disc. Nothing more."

"Yes!" Realizing the teapot was still hanging in her fingers, Del hurriedly shoved it back on the stove. "S-Sorry about the mess. I'll clean it up." She stammered. Half watching him mosey to the elevator shaft as she swiped a kitchen towel off the stove handle.

"See that you set a fresh pot."

"Okay! Earl Grey?"

"That'll do. One sugar. Perhaps some lemon."

"Okay."

"And I'll need my glasses if you don't mind. They're on my desk."

"Why not just demand and neck massage and hot towel while you're at it, Pennyworth?"

"What do you know, Master Damian? You may have some good ideas after all."

"_Alfred!_" Through the soft whine of the elevator she could hear the old man loosen a breath.

"Can't blame and old man for trying now can you?"

* * *

"If I didn't know any better, Alfred, I'd say you were trolling me." Del called, letting her voice ring out over the soft chatter of bats and hiss of the water that was spilling into the cave. She eased down the steps, the sound of rattling teacups in her wake. Or was that her hands shaking again?

Setting the tray next to the old man, she patted her clammy hands off on her jeans watching the black screen before them fill the cave with a glow- a pale green glow. There had to be dozens of folders with shorthanded names. But upon his attempt to open one, the old butler was met with a login screen. "Only three attempts." Alfred said, giving the girl a tilt of his head before his fingers moved carefully across the keyboard. _Error. Attempts 2._ "Well, it's certainly not your name. Any suggestions?"

"What happens if we use all the attempts?"

"I'm not for certain, but I have a feeling we won't like the answer."

"Don't touch anything. I have an idea." Del murmured, watching Damian press in closer as she pried her phone from her pocket. "C'mon Sam. C'mon."

"What up, Home Slice?"

"Hey, are you free to talk? I need that brain of yours."

"Geez, No, Jordan." _ Jordan? Dad's there._ "Look, we found a disc in my mother's journal. It's password protected but there's a set number of login attempts. Is there any way you can crack it?"

With a sigh blowing in her ear, she could hear the girl's chair squeaking. "Alright, alright, hold on a second, let me look. You're a pain in my ass, you know that?" In the garbled silence of the phone, Del could hear nothing but her own heart pulsing in her ears. The second she heard a door click, Sam blew out another breath. "Sorry, he was right freaking there. Let me see if I can hop on my computer and route the Bat-computer in. That way I can make my own copy of the data and attempt the logins myself without using what's left of yours."

"What's he doing there?"

"Other than hovering? He's got Barb looking up every venom case known to man. Hospital records, accident reports, death records-you name it. I'm sure he could do it himself but let's face it, she's faster. Okay. I'm in."

Watching Alfred jump as the screen began to change on its own accord, Del let her finger's curl into the man's shoulder, biting her lip to keep from laughing at him. "It's just Sam, Alfred."

"She's controlling the bat-computer?"

"More like I'm piggybacking from Barb's access point. I mean…she's _O _after all. Alrighty. I've got my own copy. I'll just snap the disc and clean out my hard drive when I'm done. I'm sure your mom didn't want multiple copies floating around." With that a low whistle echoed out of the phone. "That's a lot of folders. VNM could stand for venom."

"Yeah but the second you click on it—"

"You get the dialogue box." Letting her phone settle by the keyboard, Del sank to her haunches, listening to the furious clacking of Sam's keyboard. "Hey, there's a hint."

"What?"

"I mean…it's not visible. But there's a hint encrypted into the data itself. I don't know if your mom was total computer geek or not…but she wasn't messing around. Got any clue what 'More than' could mean?"

"What kind of hint is that?!" Damian snapped.

"I-I don't know. That could mean anything."

"Let me see if I can worm my way in anyway." But then just as the sound of typing reverberated through the phone, so did the sound of slamming fists on a desk top. "Shit! Shit! Shit! Aw, that's just fucking lovely! Whatever you do, _don't_ use up the logins. The second it hit zero it wiped my computer! I don't know what's on here, but if your mom put this together…she went great lengths to protect it."

"Crap, Sam, I'm sorry. I'll make sure to replace your computer."

"Now I just want to know what's on it. I've got an older model around here somewhere so I'll give it another shot. If I learn anything new, I'll let you know."

Swiping to hang up the call, Samantha Cleary peeled her glasses from her face, blurring the black screen and bright white code as she pressed her fingers into her eyelids. "Crazy. Just…crazy." Bending down to the tower she could feel her lungs catching as she waited for the disc to spit out-until she caught something moving behind her. With a jolt of fear traveling up her spine, the crown of her head quickly met the underside of the desk, forcing her to drop the disc as her hands automatically shot up to rub the spot. "God—mother-fucking bless—ow. Where'd it go?!" But no sooner had the girl straightened herself out did she find that long eared shape standing just beyond her chair. The disc was sitting safely in the Bat's gloved fingers.

"Start talking."

"And just how the heck did you-"

"You over did it. _Home Slice_."

* * *

"There's hundreds of anagrams for 'More Than'."

"Knowing your mother, she'd only use those that actually made sense."

"But that's assuming she even used one. We could be wasting our time." Del groaned, leaning her head back. From here, the ceiling of the cave seemed move and tremble to the pulse of beating wings and shrill screams. _The bats are returning, the sun will be up soon. _It wouldn't be long before Batman himself made an appearance. "Would Dad know?"

Alfred seemed to crumble into his chair before returning to nurse the cup in his grip. "It's entirely possible. I'd imagine there was very little your mother didn't share with him." He murmured, tilting his head to the familiar hum of boosters. "And now you can go straight to the source." He added, watching the teen stiffen as the cab hissed open.

"What is she doing in here, Alfred? I made myself very clear—"

"Well, there was a disc you see, and considering it came out of Miss Paige's journal…" But the man simply stormed toward the computer and ripped her chair around.

"Get the cloth out of your ears and the led out of your ass. If you're not up those stairs in two seconds I'm putting you on the first flight out."

"But-"

"_One_."

"What does 'More than' mean?! If she'd tell anyone, it'd be you! I just wanna know! I want to know what's on that disc! I want to know why Mom went through so much trouble to hide it! To protect it! Why'd she do that?! Why'd she do that, Dad?!" She hadn't meant for her voice to rise so high that it cracked. She hadn't meant for the words to make the back of her throat ache. _There's so much about her…that I don't know. That I'll never know._ Looking at the bat before her now she found herself hoping that maybe some kind of answer would come out of him. But those eyes only seemed to narrow at her.

"I don't know! I don't know what it means! I don't know what she was thinking, I don't know why she didn't come to me if it was that damn important! I. Don't. Know. I do know that I can't keep my eye on my reckless daughter while my oldest son is clinging to life. Dick's not here and I don't have time to babysit you so you can play Batgirl. Move it."

The tension was as thick as the humidity of the cave, but the girl slid from the chair without so much as a word. With the soft click of a dog's claws at her back she moved for the stairs, aware of the three sets of eyes that were watching her every move. When she paused for the briefest of seconds, she could almost imagine her father jumping to action. "What I did today? Batgirl didn't do that. So it really doesn't matter if I ever become her again or not, now does it? Pull the plug on her if you want. Even if she's gone, I'm still here."

Listening to the door latch shut behind her, Alfred let his chest collapse, half watching the Bat sink into the chair his daughter had so recently vacated. "I've never heard such a load of tripe come out of your mouth before." He said hoarsely as he eased himself up from his chair.

"Don't you start—"

"At times like these I miss Paige. She'd tell you when you're being a royal horse's ass."

"Well she's not—so I suggest you get over it."

"You first, Master Bruce! If you're going to be mad at the woman for holding back on you, then fine! But don't you dare take it out on that girl! Or did you forget that she's your child too?! For fuck's sake, Man! It's not her fault that Master Dick—"

"Alfred!" From behind the Caped Crusader, Alfred could see Damian's almond shaped eyes going wide as the man shot up from his chair. But the old butler simply held his ground. "She's going to get herself killed! She's not thinking with her head!"

There's something to be said about an old man with enough gall to put his bony finger into Batman's chest plate, but Damian couldn't think of a single word. He just sat there and blinked. "Oh and I suppose it's not emotional for you either? What are you really upset about Master Bruce? That your daughter thought of something you didn't?" At that the man gave a dry sort of laugh. " Or is it perhaps that she's always favored Master Dick? Of course she did, you bonehead! Did you ever stop to imagine how lonely her life would have been without him?! No wonder she reacted the way she did! " He shouted, stopping to rub his wrinkled hand over his mouth as if it were dry as sand.

"I'm not saying you don't care for him just as much. I'm not saying you don't consider him your son and that you wouldn't move this very earth for him. All I'm saying is, Delilah let's her heart lead her. Maybe that _is _troublesome. And as a parent, you have every right to fear the outcome. God knows you've done everything to protect her. But letting your heart take the lead isn't a _crime_." He said, lifting the empty tray and heading for the stairs. "Every one of your children has disobeyed you at some point. She's a teenager. It's what they do. Surely you know that by now. Maybe she challenges you more than the others, but did you ever ask yourself why that is?" With that the man just continued up the stairs. "I think I've given you enough to ponder on. I shall call Master Tim to check on Master Dick's progress."

"Tell me…if anything changed."

"Of course, Sir."

* * *

"Miss Wayne. Miss Wayne, please." He could here Alfred's droning plea long before he could see him. The sound of slippers scuffing the floor only seemed to precede the sound of small bare feet dancing around the hall.

"No! No! No! No!" The high pitched cracks of a sob all but yanked him up the stairs. It was the same sound he could imagine that had Dick ripping open his bedroom door, shedding lamplight across the floor. "Just go! Just go _away_. _Please_. _Please_, _please_!"

"Child, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

Finally letting his eyes settle on the shapes just out of his reach, he could see Alfred's sigh rolling through him as the tiny thing in the nightgown began to back away, hair wild and face wet.

"What's going on here?" Surely the boom of his voice would resolve this issue. But the muscles in her small back only seemed to go rigid before she whirled on her heel. The second she noticed him there, that thick bottom lip started to quiver—and everything in him seemed to drop to his feet_. _One step up and she backed herself into the wall, eyes wide and shimmering like the big fat drops that were dripping down her cheeks. "Delilah?" His own child was cowering in his shadow, shaking so hard he could see the muscles rippling in her shoulders.

"_Nooo_…" He didn't know she was capable of making such a sound. "Don't freeze me. Don't freeze me, _Daddy_, please! You'll _die_!" She cried, recoiling from his outstretched fingers. "I don't want you to die." With those words the unshed sobs burst, prying Richard Grayson from the doorway. Watching her so willingly fold into his arms, Bruce let his own fall from the air as he rose to his feet, trying to ignore the sting as the child's sobs were squashed into Dick's shirt.

"Hey, hey it's okay, no one's being frozen." He whispered, his wide hand smoothing her hair down as the weeping echoed through the Manor. "What in the hell is she talking about?"

Standing there so limply, Bruce tore his eyes away. "She found Nora today." He offered, trying to ignore the sudden thought of her peering up at that ageless face. At his voice the girl's head tilted, letting a sliver of those pale eyes glance his direction.

"My heart's fine." She moaned. "It's still good! I promise!"

"Del…"

"Everyone would be dead by the time someone would let me out!" she cried. "I don't want anyone to die! I don't wanna be by myself!"

"It was just a dream, Squirt. You really think he'd do that to you?" Dick asked, paying no mind to the tears she was wiping off on his shoulder. "He wouldn't do that to you in a million years. You think I'd actually _let_ him do something like that?" With that he lifted her chin. "No way. "

"You promise?"

"Cross my heart. We good now?"

Watching her sniffle and nod, Bruce could feel his lungs shoving out what air he found himself holding. Dick to the rescue…again. "Yeah…" He could foil the Riddler's plans. He could stay one step ahead of the Joker. Hell, he could defuse a hostage situation. But this? Here in his own home? He didn't stand a chance.

"_Finding Nemo_ and some popcorn?"

With just a heavy nod, Dick began toting the child down the stairs. She never looked his direction. Not once.

"Master Dick, it's four in the morning-"

"They're fine, Alfred."

"Last one to fall asleep is a loser." Dick called.

"Did you know _42 Wallaby Way_ isn't a real address?" The girl mumbled, rubbing at her tacky lashes.

"Says who?"

"Google."

He could still smell popcorn by the time Alfred and Barbra had dragged him back to the surface. Like the cave, the house itself was dark, say for the glow that was spilling from the den. "Can I get a hand here? _Please_?"

Only the sound of Barbra's snickering seemed to draw him closer to the doorway, her soft laughter following her as she weaved through the bowls of stale popcorn and tossed pillows to the sofa and the man stretched across it. Curled up on his chest and over an arm, was Del. Her small buttery fingers were clenched into his shirt. Her hair was all but sticking to her face in a disheveled mess. She had a sock on one foot and the other who knows where…but one thing was for certain, she was out. "Looks like you're the loser, Birdbrain." The redhead teased. "What? Can't handle a tiny thing like her?"

"I can't feel my arm anymore." He reported, earning nothing but a laugh out of her. "I wanna move it but uh…"

"Don't want to wake her either. How 'bout we just cut it off?"

"Hey, if it keeps her from freaking out again, let's do it. Tell Alfred to bring the saw."

"Seriously?" Barb asked, working the little girl off his chest and into her arms. "Couldn't have been that bad."

"She did call Bruce '_Daddy'_ for the first time."

"Okay…so maybe it was bad."

With his shadow shrinking along the floor, he slipped from the door, more than aware of the echo that just wouldn't leave him_. 'Don't freeze me, Daddy, please! You'll die! I don't want you to die.'_

* * *

Standing on the stairs now, he could still see her, face creased with sobs and marred with tears. Her night terrors had always been just that—terrors. Not that she ever reached for him. With a second to clear his throat and close his eyes, the little phantom disappeared, letting the man slip soundlessly through the halls once more.

He just needed a moment. A moment when he wasn't wondering about Paige, and all the things she never said. He just needed enough time to close his eyes and not see Dick's body rotting from the inside out. He needed to hear something. Something louder than his own thoughts. Something that rivaled the clack of keys and the squabbling of winged creatures. He needed to shed the weight off his shoulders, not that his chest felt that much lighter. But then…it was a different kind of burden. _I just need a couple minutes…and then back to the drawing board. _

The pulse of humming notes was all but trembling beneath his boots long before he opened those doors. It was so loud he couldn't even hear the windows rattle, surely it was enough noise to dash the thoughts of an angry teenager. _I'm not the only one who doesn't want to think… _

If anything, the noise made it easy to find her. It made it easy to lurk there in the doorway and watch her spring off the vault only to crash to her knees. Smacking the mat she climbed to her feet, lips moving shedding curses he couldn't hear. But then her shadow was speeding along the wall again only to spring so gingerly into the air and crash too soon on the mat below. But just like all the attempts before, the girl untangled her limbs and shoved herself to her feet, stopping only to blow a breath at the ceiling and wipe at the sweat on her brow before she went at again. The sound of her body hitting the mat only seemed to grow louder than before.

He couldn't stop the wince as she hit the mat with enough force to tumble back to her feet. Only when her chest was heaving and her leotard was line with dark patches of sweat did she slowly sink to the floor, casting a ball of a shadow beside her as she bowed her head and cursed, fingers clawing into the mat beneath her. What would…what would Dick do? What would Alfred say? The moment she lifted her head, he was sure she spotted him. But her cheeks only filled with air as she sent a hissing breath to air. The second he caught the gleam of a tear track, his feet urged him forward. But Del was wiping it away and gathering that long graceful form up again.

It was the sound of her feet pounding along the mats that stilled him. _C'mon, Kid. _At the sound of the spring board giving beneath her, his own fingers clenched, watching her somersault through the air. Her body would give the slightest twist to reverse the direction, but then… the ground met her before her feet could stretch out to it. So damn close. "Almost."

He hadn't realized he spoke aloud until her head popped up, sending that wide eyed gaze to the door. Without a word, she staggered to her feet, shaking her head as slammed on the buttons of her music player. "Almost." She said, half panting half scoffing as she let her gaze slide. "Didn't come to see me play gymnast did you?"

"Still planning on Santa Prisca? Even though—"

"If I pissed away a second chance like that he'd be mad as hell! 'Sorry, Dicky, I know you sacrificed a lot to make this happen but I couldn't go without you' _No_. That won't fly." She shot back, storming toward the small bench where she'd left her bottle of water. "So I'll need the jet in a few days."

"A few days isn't very long to—"

"I have to!" The second she spun at him, he could see them, the tears racing down her cheeks. _" Or is it perhaps that she's always favored Master Dick? Of course she did, you bonehead! Did you ever stop to imagine how lonely her life would have been without him?! No wonder she reacted the way she did!" _

Watching her smash the tears with the backs of her hands, he couldn't stop himself from reaching for her. _Fix it. Fix it somehow_. Dick would've told her it was okay. He would've found a way to make those pursed lips of hers crack into a smile. He would've ruffled her hair and swept her up by the neck with his arm to put her at ease. He would've done all these things…and yet all Bruce could manage to do was hold onto her, until she shed her guarded walls in soundless sobs.

It took his uncertain arms a minute to wrap around her completely, until her fingers were clawing into him and her cheek was crushed into his chest. She was always someone different. Beside Dick she was so confidant and witty. Maybe a little too sassy for her own good. She was every bit of that little girl he met in Paige's foyer. Honest and unafraid.

With him, she changed. She became reserved and careful. So guarded it was hard to tell what she could possibly be thinking—as if she was constantly protecting herself from being disappointed and hurt by this strange world this life offered. Maybe she was protecting herself from him. He wasn't sure if it was the thought he felt weighing on his chest or hers. But when the trembling sobs gave to warm pools of breath…she was still there.

"The serum…it worked, right?" She croaked at last, reminding him the body in his arms wasn't quite as small as he thought.

"Yes. We have time. Not much." He murmured, his hand falling down her messy hair when she lifted her head and began prying herself away. Her long fingers were rubbing across her face when he spoke again, fingers lifting her chin. "Try again." Her lips folded and flattened as uncertain as her glossy eyes, but she nodded and turned away.

He could see the points of her shoulders rising there in the darkness as a sigh hummed through her. By the time she started for the vault, he knew the sound of her feet beating against the mat. _One. Two. Three. _The springboard gave, letting her shoot up into the air, her agile form casting shadows along the walls. Only when her feet unsteadily hit the mat, forcing her to catch herself, did the air slide out of his unforgiving lungs.

"_Finally_!"

"A little shaky on the landing. Don't they deduct points for that?" Oh, that smile, even in the dark he could see it spreading across her face. Triumph. She all but skipped back toward the bench, face tacky, edges of her hair wet with sweat—but still pleased.

"Yeah…" She panted, swiping the glass water bottle off the bench once more." But now that I know where the sweet spot on the horse is, I can work on the landing." She added, pausing when she saw a particular shape darkening the bottom of her bottle. _Wait…_

He wasn't sure what to think when she lifted her bottle to inspect the bottom of it. "What is it?"

"A fleur-de-lis and a D… it was on the perfume bottles at Gigi's." She said slowly.

"Devereux-Verre puts that on all their glass work. Their commercial contracts are no different." He said, watching the bottle slip from her fingers, no sooner had it fallen to her feet did the girl leap for the door.

"Dad! C'mon!" She cried, tugging at him before darting down the hallway herself, leaving shiny wet footprints in her wake.

* * *

She took the stairs two and three at time, not caring about the rough feel of the stone beneath her feet, the small pieces of gravel shrapnel or the fact that she'd been banned from this place not even hours before. "Please. Please. Please." The chant was like a prayer, but then what outcome did she really want? She hit the table with a _thud_, forcing Damian to lazily turn the chair about and toss a rogue glance in his sister's direction as she went through the objects like a madwoman. "Where is it?!"

"I think you've lost it. Not that you've ever had it." The boy said wistfully, his eyes narrowing when she flung his chair around and fisted her hands into his shirt.

"Where'd you put it?!" Her words were sharp maybe a touch panicky and none of it could be helped. When he just blinked at her, she could feel her fingers tightening, her nails digging into her skin through the fabric of his shirt. "The bottle! The bottle that Dick drank from this morning! It was bagged. Where'd it go?!"

Smacking her hands away, Damian unfurled his crossed legs and slid from the chair, more than aware she was watching every move he made. "And they keep saying I'm the insane one." He muttered, pulling the sample back from a filing cabinet. The girl snatched it from his wagging fingers just as he noticed that imposing shape descending down the stairs. Surely he'd get rid of her now, send the loon elsewhere. But then he said nothing of the sort.

"Gloves."

Del had all but ripped the bag open with her nails, before her father's command floated to her ears. Snaking a couple rubber gloves from the box above her head, she made short work of stretching them over her fingers, her stomach knotting all the while. Finding the broken shard that used to be the bottle's bottom, Del lifted it to the light_. Product of Zesti Cola._ "Damn it. It was a Zesti cola product after all." She groaned. But the more she looked, the more her fingers shook. There stamped beside the beveled lettering was that familiar fleur-de-lis. "Dad…"

At her weary sounding plea, Batman lifted the jagged piece from her fingers. "That could explain why all the syrup samples came back clean."

"It's the bottles." The words almost made her tongue numb. She could hear the squeak of Damian's chair as he all but leapt from it, more than ready to blaze a trail. "I don't think-I don't think you're going to get the information you need." She said carefully. "Not by force. I think—I think I should do it."

"_Tch. _You're not Batgirl anymore if you hadn't noticed."

Her teeth made her lip ache. Hell, maybe that was blood she tasted. A part of her wanted to look up at the bat beside her. He hadn't said either way. But then…did it matter? "I know. But have you forgotten who they are to me?" She asked, her voice sounding so small and maybe too soft to be heard, but the boy paused. "They're…family." _And they could be the reason_… "I think I'm gonna need the jet a lot sooner than I thought."

* * *

**AN- Okay! Things just keep getting more and more complicated. As for the Freeze and Nora backstory, it's coming from the New 52 version. I find that one more interesting. (The rest of the changes...not so much.) **

**I know the information about Gigi and Ras' relationship was a little ambiguous. But the woman was being ambiguous as well. In my opinion she was infatuated with him as a young woman-but that changes after you really get to know someone. There will definitely be more information on that in the next chapter. (Including if she had indeed spilled the beans about a certain grandchild.)**

Next Chapter - Impostor.


	33. Imposter

_I can't stop seeing his face, why can't I stop seeing his face?_ Even now, she could still feel that pulse fading under her fingers—feel the scalpel weighing in her hand. "Can we discuss—_things_ here or…"

"Oh? Evie here won't say anything, will you now?" Feeling that heavy hand squeezing the end of the gauze in her fingers, Evelyn Cleary had no choice but to swallow the balling knot and pray that these strange people couldn't see the holes in her strength. "I'd hate to take those organs _back_."

"That won't be necessary." She uttered, feeling the relief well up from the pit of her stomach when his grip slid, leaving her free to continue unwinding the gauze from his face. _It's not like I could run to Jim now. My hands are just as filthy. _

"What are we going to do about the brats?"

"Careful now, one of those _brats_ is my grandson." That voice—a voice of so many places but it had an allegiance to none. Nothing in this world could make her glance in his direction as the flesh on her back rose beneath her shirt. "We'll simply collect him."

"Not that one. Delilah, what are you going to do about _her_?" Delilah? Sam's friend? What would they want with her? The chaotic thoughts beg the woman's fingers to fish for the half-finished letter in her pocket, and yet she could only let them fall to the tray of dirty bandages, willing her trembling hands still as a gruff sort of laugh boomed from the corner of the room. Even the doctor let his hands slide from peeling his own wrapping away. "Laugh all you want, that one will be troublesome." He grumbled, reminding his fingers of their task. "Just like her mother."

* * *

Peering through the rooks and pawns, Damian frowned. "You have me in nine." The boy griped as his fingers plucked away one of his sister's pieces for the keeping. The peculiar creature before him just blinked—she might as well have been a million miles away. Lifting her hands she let Jax shift half his body into her lap as she leaned forward, returning her fingers to the ivory pieces. "Alfred didn't teach you." He said at last when her eyes were no longer clouded with thoughts. "I've beaten him."

At that there was something…a sliver of a smirk or makings of a smile too unwilling to cross her mouth. "Actually…" She began, shoving one of his knights from their space. "Doc taught me." Claiming the knight to her side of the board she tilted her head. "I was playing at one of the stone chess tables in the hospital gardens…" She uttered, sinking back into her chair as she let her hands trace the Doberman's thinly pointed ears. "He just sat down and set up the pieces. It's like the game never ended." Watching the boy's lips fall to his fisted hands, she smiled. "There's still a way out of it." She said, watching him tilt his head. "But I'm not about to tell you how. You have to think like your opponent."

"I can feel my IQ dropping already." He sneered, weary to pry his fingers away from the piece under his hand. "So about these…relatives of yours…" The words were enough to summon a lamenting breath from her. "Who are these people? Devereux—Verre's stock's climbed significantly over the last five years. Maybe not _now_. Why would they use their own glassworks if it'd hurt their bottom line?" He asked, watching her lean forward into her own fists.

"I don't know." The words were nothing more than a whisper as she finally made her move. "That's a part of the problem. I hardly know my mother's family. I've seen more of them in the last couple months than I have in my entire life. I don't know what they're really capable of—what the Dragon is capable of." Moving her next piece without hesitation, she could see his dark brows furrowing. "And I…" She said lightly, shoving yet another one of his pieces aside. "…have a question for you. How did you learn about me? Did someone tell you?" _Someone like Ras? _

But the boy only sniffed. "And I'm the narcissistic one?"

"Without a doubt."

"An internet search. I was looking up information on Father and you came up. _Bruce Wayne's secret child_." He said with a hiss, slamming the piece he snagged on the side of the board. "Why are you so curious all of a sudden? I'm clearly the bigger secret."

"It seems that the old Dragon Lady and the Demon's Head…" She started, shoving yet another of his ebony pieces out of the way. "…are very well acquainted."

"And how do you know this?" He asked. Leaning back in his chair, he could see his sister's fingers tapping on the ivory queen. _Waiting to go in for the kill are you?_ He could resign, but where was the fun in that?

"She told me as much. With as little information as possible of course."

"So you're wondering if she told my grandfather about you. Is that it?"

"Exactly it. Checkmate."

"That was less than nine." He grumbled, batting her hand away when she moved to reset the pieces. He was still playing out her last moves when the announcement that they would be landing in just a few minutes filled the space. "If she did…" He said, looking up from the small ivory and ebony statues, "He never mentioned it to me. Common sense would dictate that you ask _her_." He said sweeping the pieces from the board. "Not me." With that he grabbed his Katana from the side of his chair and tugged on his seatbelt, paying no mind to the pieces rolling at his feet.

"Was bringing that necessary?"

"You brought yours. Will it be?"

* * *

Watching the pale Antebellum mansion rise from the mist, Del could feel her fingers coming alive—as if she could still feel the sun warmed window beneath her fingers—feel her mother's smooth cheek pressing against her own as they peered into the sun drenched world of coppery horses and fields the sun had set ablaze. Closing her eyes, she imagined she could hear more than the rain lazily tapping on the cab. If she thought hard enough—listened hard enough she could still hear the soft tinkling sound of her mother's earrings. With a deep breath she could almost smell her. The soft scent of sweet peas mingling with the notes of her citrus shampoo, it was there still teasing her memory when the door came open, washing it all away with the bitter fog and the sharp salt of the sea. _Mom's eyes were shimmering_, she thought. But at that moment she couldn't tell if it was from the gold ribbons of sunlight she remembered cutting across her mother's face…or something else.

Just as quick as the familiarity came, it abandoned her in front of a bone tired house. The fields she remembered as thick and blazing were matted, wet and dead. Gray skies replaced the sapphire hue she recalled. The sun? Perhaps the sun had forgotten this place.

She was vaguely aware of the sound of Damian's door coming open, his scoff rivaling the hissing sea at her back. But before Del could twist toward him with a ready glare, the bright red door popped open, letting the air fill with spices and chatter. _Who's that? _Her mother's question was still echoing in her ears when those arms engulfed her, squashing girl and her hidden katana into a broad chest that smelled of smoke, peppers and unnamed herbs. As unfamiliar as it was, the tightness of his arms lulled instantly. "Uncle Beau." _I do remember you. You were waiting for us._

"I was wondering when you'd pop in."

"I'm sorry I called so early-"

"Never." His big paw like hands were warm on her chilled cheeks, forcing the numbness to fight back with that painful tingle. "I called an old colleague of your mother's." He added his voice deep and soft as the pale green rings in his hazel eyes seemed to darken. Maybe he could feel her shuddering. Maybe he knew she was fighting back the cold that had her gut clenching.

"From venom one?"

"I hope you don't mind…but I also told him about your brother's case." He said, letting his arms flop to his sides. "He'll be dropping by later this afternoon. I assumed you'd want to talk to him yourself."

With an automatic reach for a certain nosy dog's leash, Delilah could feel her heavy head giving in to a nod, aware of Damian's contempt burning into her back. _ I told him too much. _Del let the unease slither from her lips and lift into the sky as the front door came open again, an unknown face popping out into the wet gray world. "Hey! You gonna cook this mirepoix or do I need to do it?"

"Keep your dick skinners away from the food! I don't know where they've been!" With that the man shook his head, a mixture of French and English tainting the air before he finally gave a ragged sigh and snagged the girl around the neck with an arm. "Just a warning, the house is full." He said leading the Wayne children up from the soggy drive to the porch. "They can smell fear."

"Who said I was scared?"

"So there's another reason you two have weapons on you?" He asked, mashing the katana into her spine when he gave her a smack on the back. "At least this time you'll use the door." He said, giving a small wiry smile. "C'mon in here. I'll introduce you to the next dragon and his delightful brats—I mean your cousins—some of them removed-lucky you."

_And anyone of them could be guilty._

* * *

Inside the aching white house, the noise level rose. It was kind of noise Delilah Wayne always imagined that could fill such a place to the brim. Screechy arguments and booming laughs mingling with French words and southern twang. It was all painfully familiar. She should've known these faces—these people who embraced her and kissed her cheeks remarking on how grown she was—as if they'd always known her, as if they hadn't watched her grow up via gossip rags and entertainment pieces. It'll make it easier, she told herself. It'll make it easier to cut them loose.

Following Beau into the quietness of the kitchen, she found herself breathing in the fragrant clouds of steam hanging in the air. Peppers, garlic, lemons and brine, and yet it was simply the smell of coffee that had her pausing in the beams of pale light.

It was the same smell that led her to the kitchen so long ago. Her feet were all but sliding in her boots, the tops swallowing up her calves as she snuck into the kitchen. The rising light cast colorful shapes of fluttering gulls along the walls, but her eyes were on the man at the coffee pot. "What we gonna do today, Uncle Beau?" She whispered, her small fingers clutching up to the counter top as she wormed her way to his side, watching him fill his coffee cup as if the motion was automatic.

"Well, I imagine the horses are probably hungry." He offered, winning a big cheesy grin out of her. "And we need to check the pieces in the kilns. See if they're cool enough to pull out." He said, holding a madeleine out to her before he popped one into his own gob.

"Go put on your boots on then." She said, the words garbled by the cookie in her mouth.

"You stop being so bossy, Miss Thing." Hearing her mother's weary command, the girl twisted her head to the woman who was all but staggering to the coffee pot.

"You know that runs in this family." The man muttered into his cup, watching his niece grope around the cabinet for a mug as he slid another cookie in the child's direction as if it would keep her mouth busy. "And from what I know about _him_, so is he."

"_Uncle Beau_…"

"I was hoping for something better, for _all_ of you." He amended. "A man doesn't travel hundreds of miles for nothing." The pot in her mother's hand shook, summoning curses as coffee splashed in little puddles around her cup. Her shoulders were curled, as if she might sigh or throw her hands in the air, but she simply shoved the pot back into the coffee machine and spoke.

"Baby Girl, why don't you grab Uncle Beau's boots from the mud room?" But as Del skipped out of the kitchen, she could still hear their murmuring humming over the sound of a spoon clinking against the sides of a coffee mug.

"He should've asked you. This arrangement is ridiculous. No _decent_ father-" She could almost imagine the look her mother shot him. Her hazel eyes narrow, mouth grimacing over her coffee. Because the next thing she heard was a heavy sigh. "I've said my piece. I won't say anymore."

"He did." Her mother whispered, the rawness of her voice all but froze Delilah's fingers to the tops of her uncle's boots. "I wanted to say yes. I just…I couldn't. The timing was all wrong."

"Paige…"

"I know you don't understand. I know it doesn't make much sense—"

"I know you're still in love with him, that much is plain to see, _Bébé_."

* * *

"I don't know if you remember the last time you had a crab boil-" Beau's words slid, when he realized she hadn't moved from the threshold. She was simply staring into the emptiness, her pale blue eyes wide an unblinking—fingers curled into the doorjamb. "Little Bit? You alright?" He asked, the color brightening that pale slack face as her fingers flexed carefully in her pocket. A few rapid blinks of those long dark lashes, and she was free from what ever thought had tangled her up. With the slightest of flushes she gave a nod. "It's a lot to take in," He said quietly, wincing as a mass of cheering calls echoed from another part of the house. "Game day. Just stick with me and you'll survive the crazies." He said adding his own sigh to the air. "Isn't that right, Clara?"

The child in question was tucked into the corner of the same table they'd sat at just weeks ago. Her body was all but cradled into the walls as if she were trying to make herself look as small as possible. At his words, the little blonde gave a smile rueful smile. "I don't know what he's talking about." She said sipping at her cup. "He's one of the crazies." Snagging a cookie from the plate in the middle of the table, she shoved the plate away, closer to the boy as if that would lure him from behind his sister. It worked. "At least he's tolerable."

"Can't take the heathen out of all of them." Beau said wistfully watching the boy sink down at the table, aware that his great-niece was filling the space beside him at the counter. "I know you came here for something else." He uttered, watching her fingers finally disappear into the pocket of her coat to lift out a small bag with shards of broken bottle. But then her free hand was clutching at the counter as if it were rooting her in place. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"It was in his drink." She whispered, half listening to the whooping laughter that was vibrating through the walls as she ignored her jellied limbs. The man set his wooden spoon across the pan before him and lifted the bag from her fingers, frowning as he pulled it closer to the overhead light above the stove. "I recognized the fleur-de-li." She said, aware that his chest was all but concaving. "I didn't know that Devereux-Verre was making the bottles for Zesti Cola."

"Well—"

"Oh, go ahead and tell her." At the sound of the new voice, Del could feel the weight of the small bag sliding back into her pocket from her uncle's fingers. "He's not exactly a fan of the new Zesti Cola contracts, but our bottom line's never been better."

It was hard to dispute that the man in the doorway was related to the man beside her now. They had the same stocky build—broad shoulders and chests, arms thick and sinewy, but unlike Uncle Beau, the calluses on his hands were all but softened his skin pale as if the sun hadn't been able to wear him down.

At the stove, Beau Devereux was bristling. "Alexandre—" But the man in the rain dampened shirt just shook his head as he raked his well-manicured fingers through his soggy brown hair.

"Don't start getting pissy. Is that Jambalaya about ready? The pot's almost ready to be pulled."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but Devereux-Verre's stock has been nose diving. So stop trying to blow smoke up her ass." Damian said with a hiss, ignoring Alexandre's glare with a smug pursing of his lips.

"Who is this brat? He's not one of ours."

"He's one of _mine_." The sound of that rich raspy voice made the flesh beneath Delilah's coat ripple. _I know that face._ It wasn't the black hair that had gone gray at the temples. It wasn't the goatee or the sun licked skin—it was those eyes, wide and hard as jade.

"Ra's Al Ghul." She wasn't sure what pulled the name from her hesitant lips, but it summoned a sharp dangerous smile to the man's mouth. This man—this monster, was the leader of the league of Assassins—league of shadows. The man who trained her father. The man who wanted to destroy humanity in the name of 'balance'. Damian's grandfather, the Demon's Head.

Stumbling back she could feel, Beau's hand fisting into her jacket, and yet she couldn't shake heaviness or the wayward thoughts in her head. _Chemical warfare. Assassins. Genocide. Chaos._ And the man who started it all was standing in her great-grandmother's kitchen blurring in her vision.

Her fingers may have been groping for something, anything that could hold her still as the blood rushed to her head. But she found nothing but air as her knees crumbled, forcing her weight to hang in her coat alone as her body sank to the floor.

* * *

She wanted to reach for her mother's arm. She wanted to sink into the sound of chattering voices and boisterous laughter. She wanted to follow the smell of charring sugar. Any excuse would do if it freed her from view of this green eyed stranger and his probing stare.

She had no choice but to watch the transformation he took with every flicker of the firelight. The light and dark shaping him into something she couldn't name. Something inhuman that could see every little secret she ever tried to keep. The heat of the fire was all but licking up her back and yet, she couldn't will her limbs to move. She was a captive.

"_Regardez pas, c'est mal poli_." Free. Could he see her chest collapsing with relief when her mother's arm sank around her? But Mama's muscles weren't loose or relaxed; she was as taunt as a guitar string. Did she see the way he stared at her?

"Delilah, don't stare, that's not nice." Her mother chided softly, paying no mind to her little fingers as the burrowed into the pocket of her jeans. Something needed to hold her here. Hold her to her mother's side where it was safe. "I'm very sorry, she's just—"

"Delilah, is it?" His voice was peculiar—raspy and marked with strange sounding vowels, but not quite like Gigi's. Her name wasn't even the same coming out of him. "Quite the curious little dragon." He remarked, teeth gleaming as his face twisted into a smile—like a beast showing its teeth. "They usually run away by now."

"It's the hair, _Mon ami_." Gigi teased, shaking her head when he raked his fingers through the receding peaks on his balding head. Feeling her great-grandmother eyes resting on her, Delilah filled her lungs. The dragon was giving her an out, right?

"You're either confident or crazy with hair like that." The child piped, feeling the fingers of a chill poking at her in the spine as the prattle was suddenly quelled.

"So which is it, blue eyed dragon?"

"I don't know yet. I hardly know you."

"Yet." To that the man sank back in his chair, resting his chin in his long fingers. She could hear the ebb and flow of laughter but it did nothing to thaw the uncertainty. What could he see that she couldn't? "That's very wise of you. Nothing is ever what it appears to be."

* * *

The laughter was still lingering when Delilah pried open her heavy eyelids. Shivering at the touch of cold air, she let her consciousness stir as she took in the unfamiliar room. She could smell nothing but saltwater and ink as peered at the shelves, heavy with books and glittering pieces of glass. She didn't recognize the faces hanging on the pale blue walls—and yet she could see bits of her own likeness in them. A study maybe?

"She's weak, Gisele." The sound of his voice made her jaws clench, and yet, as the girl turned her head to the pair at the chess board, everything went loose. _My katana!_ There, leaning against Gisele Devereux's chair was her yellow sheathed sword. "That could've been fixed long ago."

"It wasn't my decision." Gigi said at last, lifting her fingers from the pale white piece. "What would have me do? Force her?"

"Yes. A debt is still a debt, is it not?"

"Then you didn't know my mother," Del spat, forcing the two to look her direction as she slid from the chaise. "If you think for one second you could've _forced_ her to do _anything_." Those eyes. There was a time she'd been afraid of that stare. There was a time he could've paralyzed her like a snake preparing to swallow her whole—but now? Now there was nothing. He'd lost that power the moment Damian came into her life.

"She has a point, _mon ami_."

"I know she was rash." He said, watching the teen stiffen at the side of the board. Even Gisele lifted her head, hand and piece still dangling in the air. "Just like all the other dragons." And of course, the woman never told him he was wrong. "She could have saved you. Instead…" he started, sliding his fingers from the slick black piece to snatch up another captive. "…she was selfish."

No sooner had Del's fingers wrapped around the hilt of her sword, did she feel Gigi's cool palm pressing down on her hand, long fingers tangling over hers with surprising force.

"She could've turned me into a raving lunatic." Del said flatly, lifting her eyes from the board. "Or worse. She could've turned me into something like you." She could hear Gigi's sharp chiding breath before she snagged the woman's hand, stopping her from making another move. "I know a lot about your friend, Gigi. I know about the Lazarus pits. I know about the organizations. And I also know," she said, eyes shifting down to the pieces. "That he'll ambush you in a heartbeat."

Gigi's neat brows furrowed at the chess board. "Why you cheeky bastard!"

"Getting rather slow in your old age, my friend." He said, watching the woman redirect her move to evade capture—another stalemate. Like always.

"Old?! Just who are you calling old? Hmm?" The woman chided, ignoring that wispy half smile that was pulling at his lips. "Pah! There. _Old_ he says. And _you_. How do you know—the boy."

"As I said, slow in your old age." The man murmured, easing from the chair in one fluid motion, ignoring the girl's grimace as he leaned in and pecked the woman's cheeks.

"Maybe next time you'll beat me, eh?"

"Perhaps. My grandson and I shall be on our way then."

"Damian's not going anywhere." Del snapped, yanking her hand out from under her grandmother's fingers when the man whirled around on his heel. "You won't be sticking your claws into my little brother anymore."

"Ah, so the little dragon thinks she has teeth." He whispered, watching the girl's fingers dig into her arms as if she were struggling to keep them to herself. "The Dragon won't always be with you. I wonder what you'll be then."

"Ra's. Leave the boy." It was Gigi's soft sigh that brought the man's attention to her, watching the silver haired woman round her great mahogany desk. "He came here with Delilah, he needs to leave here with her. I don't want Wayne on my doorstep. I quite like how well we ignore each other." She said, her delicate hands splaying on the edge. "Besides, I'd like to meet Talia's son myself. I can't very well do that if you take him, now can I?"

Watching the man close his black lined eyelids, Del couldn't help the breath that caught her lungs as the man's shoulders sagged with a sigh. "Very well." Did Ra's Al Ghul just yield?!"_Jusqu'à la prochaine fois."_

"Yes, until next time." But just as the man pulled the door open, letting the jabber and chaos waft through the threshold, that bell of a voice came again. "And Ra's? Make sure you _don't_ leave Ubu behind this time." She said lightly, not even trying to hide that sly smile. "I don't think my young ones would take very kindly to him. I'm afraid they wouldn't return him to you in very good condition." She said while she had him trapped there at the door. "I'm not so slow am I, my friend?"

"Perhaps not. But we shall see, won't we?"

_She-she knows Talia?! And Ubu?! _"Yes, yes we will." Del could see the woman moving to close the door. She could even follow her words. But could she move? No. She could just stare at the woman, feeling her own eyes going dry. Only when she felt the woman's cool hands on her cheeks, did she force herself to blink.

"How are you feeling, _ma petite_?"

"I'm...I'm fine now." _I think. Unless I've died and gone to Hell_. "You know who Talia is? You've met her?"

She came to miss the feel of the woman's hands when they left her, giving her no choice but to twist about as she moved behind her desk. "I've known Talia since she was very young. I was the one who taught her French." The old girl said as if it were just a common fact. "She's not quite as young as you think."

"And Ubu?"

"This one? No. They change you know. There've been quite a few _Ubu_, I only know one or two very well."

"My father…did you tell Ra's who my father was? Before Mom died, I mean. It seems like he knew. Like he always knew…"

"Ra's is always suspicious, it's his nature." Gigi said softly, giving a tilt of her head. "Come to think of it, he _was_ rather cross with me when the world finally learned of you. You'd think I was holding out just to spite him. But no, your mother told me the truth in confidence. We may not have agreed, but I would never betray her."

"And Damian?"

"Why don't you sit down, Delilah? You look rather pale." When the girl just stood there, gripping her katana to her side, the woman shook her head. "Sit, sit."

"Did you know about my brother?!" She hadn't expected the words to come out in a cry, as she sank into the chair the woman was motioning to. And by her sudden stillness, neither was the Dragon.

"I knew _of_ him, but I've never met him myself." The woman said shaking her head. "I didn't know who his father was until you brought him to my home. I should've known then who he was—they have the same eyes—" She said tilting her head to her gray faced grandchild. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"Where is he now?"

"Outside with Remi and your dog." The woman said waving her off. "I couldn't have him sitting in front of the door like he was."

"Remi?"

At that the woman's lips twisted. "Do you honestly expect me to call my youngest son 'Beau'?" She asked, giving girlish giggle. "My son is handsome, but that's the most backwoods name I've ever—" Her words trailed as her eyes caught a face on the wall. "That was my Felix's doing." Gigi whispered, gently plucking a framed face from the wall behind her desk. "I was quite incapacitated after I had the twins." She stated, her thumbs tracing the thin black frame. "When I came to—my babies were named after his favorite hounds! Oh, I didn't speak to him _for days_." She said, letting the frame slide to Del's fingers. "He drove me absolutely insane…and I loved him."

"Guess that makes you a little insane too." Del uttered, giving the friendly looking face a ghost of a smile. "And Ra's?" She asked, sliding her great-grandfather's portrait back onto Gigi's desk as the woman jolted.

"I don't know what you think you—I didn't invite him here if that's what you believe."

"Then why do you—Gigi, it's your house! You're the Dragon Lady!" But as her words began to echo, the old woman leaned over the desk, taking up Delilah's scarred palms.

"Ah, ah, _Bébé_, no. Always keep your friends close and your enemies closer. _Always_. Do you understand?"

"Then why—"

"He took something very dear to me." She said softly, untangling her fingers as she clasped her husband's portrait and went about putting that dimpled smile back on the wall. "He had a heart condition too, did you know that?" She asked, watching the little wraith's reflection. "An enlarged heart. I suppose that's why I took such an interest in you. Why I made the deals I did." She said aware, of the soft tap of the Delilah's fingers on the hilt of the yellow sword. "Is that truly yours?"

"Yeah...Damian had it made for me." Del uttered, the muscles in her brow pinching together as the woman hastily turned to the cabinet behind her chair. The second she pulled out a pair of emerald green sheaths, the breath went whooshing out of her. Just who was this woman?

Without hesitation, Gisele slid the smaller of the two toward her. "There. Now you shall have a pair." She whispered, curling her hand over the girl's reaching fingers.

"Were you... did..."

"I was never one of _his_ assassins, no. But my hands will never be clean again. I was his student. I owed my father some deaths and Ra's helped me see to them. No more—no less." She murmured, giving those coarse fingers a squeeze. "It took your great-grandfather quite some time to accept what I'd become. After all...he was expecting a French refugee. A daughter of a businessman. Not a—"

"Dragon."

"I don't know why you need to carry a sword, Delilah, it's not my place to ask. But please, please be careful. I don't know how or why your father tangled himself in these people. Frankly, I don't care. " She said simply, catching the girl by the chin, long fingers prying the chain she spied dipping into the girl's sweater.

"But you…" Her grandmother started, words tumbling as she found a heavy key hanging from the chain. "…you are different. You are all that's left of my Bay. All that's left of my Paige. So listen to me, _Fille-Dragon_. If he wants to fashion you into something weak, let him. It will be his mistake."

The woman's lips felt like butterfly wings on her forehead. Before she knew it, the warmth of her hands was gone, the weight of the Wayne Station master key was hanging in the center of her chest and that scaly sword was fully in her grip. "I'd give you the Katana, but I am not quite done with it.." She murmured, and as much as the teen's tongue wanted to ask she knew better than to go poking a dragon. "So then, Remi said you had something you wanted to discuss? Something about the glass?"

* * *

It was dizzying—the way the glassworks buzzed like a hive. Smocked bodies and hairnets all worked in tandem, tending to the shiny glass bottles that were being turned out at an alarming rate. Standing on the floor was like being inside a thunderstorm—the rumbling of conveyer belts and hiss of cooling glass was enough to dull the roars of dragons overhead. "I said shut it down! Now! _NOW_ Alexandre!"

"Why?! Mama, we had the bottles tested the moment this madness began! They were clean! What?! Is because that little girl said something to you?! Is that it?! Damn it!"

"Do you have the paperwork on these tests?" Damian. His voice was so calm, so finite, that when she heard her uncle's frustrated breath, she found herself whipping around to peer up to the second floor, ignoring the dog who was tugging on her arm.

"Of course I do!"

"Go get them, Alexandre."

"This is your fault! You were the one who had _that girl_ put in Mama's study. I hope you're fucking happy with yourself, Beau." If the man had anything to say, she couldn't hear it over the sound of Alexandre's footsteps pounding on the metal stairs, the rumble of machinery masking his slur of curses.

"My name is Delilah." The girl said plainly, twisting around in time to watch him create a rigid shadow as she absently tried to rein in her curious Doberman. He was starting to make her arm ache. "Just in case you forgot who's really to blame." She said, aware of the weary gazes that were trickling their way. "But that won't make the issue go away, will it?" The words were clipped, leaving her to frown when the weight on her arm was suddenly slack. Jax had wrestled his head out his collar and was darting under the belts.

"Jax!" But the dog was off like a shot, leading her through the working bodies and billowing clouds of steam. When her fingers finally sank into the scruff of his neck, the bile shot up the back of her throat when she realized what he was pawing at beneath the conveyer belt. The little birds were stiff—beaks open in soundless chirps, wings forever frozen in a motion to flee. _Something isn't right, don't let him touch them._

In the midst of dragging the determined canine back, she found a solid wall of muscle at her back. "Jesus! I'm so sorry!" She shot out, watching the man raise his gloved hands, his dark gray eyes crinkling as if he might be smiling beneath his respirator.

"No harm done!" Wait…why was he the only one in the entire factory wearing a respirator? Slipping the collar around the dog's neck, she pulled the animal to her side, toeing the poor dead things further under the belt, watching the scoop a white powder into the vat before him.

"What is that exactly? I mean, what is it you do in this area?! She called, half afraid her voice would get caught In the whirr of cogs and the hiss of hot bottles as they were dumped into the vat.

"It's soda ash!" He said, glancing down at the fine white powder. "Bottles are formed up the line and are dumped here to be washed."

Soda ash? Soda ash was about as harmless as baking soda…but then why was he wearing a respirator? Why did the birds die here? _Get away. Don't breathe it in._ "Jax! _Away_!" The Doberman bolted down the aisle, even in the steam she could see his muscles shuddering as he took a stance some distance away, waiting for her next command. Her feet were itching to flee, fingers hesitant. "I see." She said, voice rising over the thunderous noise. "Thanks for showing it to me!" She called, eager to wrap her scarf around her mouth and nose. _You're already lightheaded. _If this was it. If this was the mixture—it wouldn't take much to stop a heart like hers.

Her feet were like led, and when she felt those dusty fingers digging into her shoulder like claws, everything became heavy. "Don't I know you?!" He shouted, forcing her scarf holding fingers to pause. "You've got a really familiar face!" _I should know those eyes…_ "Wait! You're Delilah Wayne, right?!"

Unable to shake the sudden wave of unease, Del forced her head to nod. And as much as she wanted to give one of her practiced smiles to smooth it all over—she couldn't lift her lips. She just wanted to flee. "DE-LI-LAH!"

Both their heads snapped up just in time to see a small boy leap over the second floor railing. She never saw him land. The weight of an arm gripping around her neck stole her attention. "Someone really wants you dead." She knew what the object was the second she the prick of the needle on her neck. There was nothing to but react. Stepping back, those sinewy muscles only seemed to squeeze tighter, like a snake terrified of losing its prey.

But as Del drop her shoulder into him, the needle bit, digging into the skin like a fang as she moved her foot behind his legs and continued to struggle to twist her head out from his hold, aware of the blood that was rolling down her neck. But before the girl could even gasp for a breath, he released, shoving her into the boy who was racing toward him.

No sooner had their bodies collided, Did Del roll away, watching him catch his staggering feet. "Don't breathe in the powder!" The words came like a shriek, aching and raw. _I'm covered in it. _The thought came and went, dashed by the sound of steel scrapping against a scabbard, as the boy tucked the collar of his hood over his nose he did nothing more than step over her.

"Your ass is mine!"

Through the blur she could see the boy giving chase, corralling the panicked man into a wall of angry dragons before a shadow spilled over her. "Are you alright?!"

"Don't touch me! Not without gloves and a respirator! It's _not_ soda ash!"

"Evacuate! NOW! It was in the confusion of sharp screams and running feet that the crack of a shot rang out over the sound of dying machines. The man at the edge of Damian's blade sank to his feet in a heap, forcing the group that'd circled around him to scatter.

_I have to know. _With the concrete biting into her knees, Del shrugged herself from her uncle's grip as she staggered toward the unmoving body. "Del!" But the warning went unheard as she sank to the floor, gulping at the bloody air and the smell of soot. Fingers shaking she peeled the respirator away, trying with all her might to ignore the new hole in the center of his head. The fear of being shot to death forgotten as the mask fell to the floor.

He wasn't sure what to make of it, watching the wet tracks begin to race down his sister's scraped cheeks. The way her mouth contorted, as if it were struggling to hold back the sobs—it was unattractive to say the least, but it pulled him forward, curiously watching her rip at his gloves like an animal ripping at hide and flesh.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" No sooner had she shot to her feet, did she start putting her booted feet into the body on the floor, making it come jolt to life with every kick of her foot. "YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO GET OFF THIS **_EASY_**!"

"Delilah! Stop it!" Beau snapped seizing the girl in his arms. She flailed. Only when her screams were dry and her limbs were loose could Beau Devereux rein her in, mashing her into his chest.

"He should've suffered!"

"Take it easy, _Bébé. _Just take it easy."

No one moved. For a split second it was like no one was breathing. If anyone had any objections to him crouching down by the body and spreading pull of blood, no one said a word._ She knew him_. He thought, staring down at that unremarkable face.

Glancing at the flashing lights just outside the door, Damian shook his head and pulled himself up by his katana. "Who was he?" He asked at last, when Del's hysterics had slid into the sound of shuddering angry breaths.

"Gillespie." The name went through the empty factory like a ripple, eliciting gasps and curses alike.

"He's in prison!" He wasn't sure who said it. One of his sister's cousins maybe? It was enough to make his sister pry herself from her uncle's arms and summon her forward. She simply pointed down at the man's ungloved hand and the strange scar that ran across it.

"That's from my teeth." She spat. "God knows I bit him hard enough." Standing beside that dusty thing, he could see her fingers clenching, shaking with the need to wipe the evidence of tears away. "You should've died screaming." If she saw him lift his gaze, if she felt it lingering like the tears that were rolling off her chin, she never showed it.

_You were cheated._ With the thought intruding upon him, Damian ripped his eyes away from her. Wincing at the weight that could only be empathy, he stared at that pathetic body at their feet. She played by father's rules and yet still felt the need to avenge her mother. Maybe they were the same. After all, they were from the same tree, so maybe, just maybe she was made from the same bitter—rotten fruit. Just like him.

* * *

It was like nothing happened. It was like the sky hadn't been split by sirens and lights. Like the blood stains and chalk lines on the floor of the glassworks didn't exist. These people, these strange creatures in human skin—were cracking claws and stuffing their gobs. They were filling the air with the sound of smacking lips and blithe smoky laughs. They could rival the crashing of the waves with their humming chatter. Never once did someone mention the sound of gunshot or the smell of blood. No one told her how lucky she was to be alive. She wasn't sure if it was ignorance, arrogance or just plain defiance.

"Eat, Delilah. Eat."

The command all but stilled the girl's fingers in the air, stopping them from touching the medical tape on her neck. She could only wince at the old woman at the head of the table, aware that the prattle had hushed under her words. The lanterns and the darkness seemed to brush together like paint when she shook her head. Eat? How could she? "I don't think I-"

"Nonsense." Gigi said, shoving her own chair back. Del could feel herself straining to hear the woman's footsteps as she circled around. But there was nothing but the thud of that heavy bowl sitting down in front of her. "If you think for one second that I won't shove this down your throat, guess again, _ma petite_." The woman commanded, forcing the girl's chilled fingers around a fork as she leaned in, her breath warm against the teen's ear. "Remember what I told you." She whispered, paying no mind to the quiet that fell across the tables.

"Let them fashion you into something weak. If they want you to be the damsel—fine. Be the damsel who needs saving from the dragon. Never let them know that you _are_ a dragon and will eat them whole." With that, Gigi slid away from her and made her way back toward the head of the table, pausing only for the space of a few words. "By the time they know the truth about you, it'll be too late for them. Now eat, no one sits at my table and refuses. Not even a Wayne."

"Bossy, isn't she?"

Three words and Beau snapped the tension, ushering in a chorus of snickering laughs and choking. _How can they even…eat?_ Damian certainly had no qualms about it. He was decapitating crawfish and plucking tails with the best of them, unaware of the bile that was sliding up his sister's throat. She half expected him to turn his nose up at the lack of refinery. Newspaper for table cloths, red solo cups and close quarters with her crazy family. But then, He almost seemed to enjoy it- the way any ten year old boy would enjoy pulling the legs off a cricket or the butt off a firefly. For a split second, he was normal as could be. That was until he opened his mouth, reminding the string of tables that nothing was ever as it appeared.

"Can the venom be dried like that? Is it still effective?"

The man beside him paused, pulling a napkin across his mouth as he swallowed. Even in the fain light of the veranda she could still make out the patch on his arm. _Venom One_. This was the old college her uncle had mentioned. Chris Donavan fell into the family like an old friend. It made the girl wonder how many times her mother brought her team home for dinner. Made her wonder if her mother had sat here at these very tables, carrying on like everyone else—like she hadn't spent the day working with creatures that could kill. Like she hadn't spent the day trying to keep others from rotting from the inside out.

"Certainly." He said at last, clearing his throat. "Just because it's dry doesn't mean it loses its potency either. It's actually more dangerous. It becomes concentrated without the fluid." His words quieted the chaos like a wave, quelling everything but the sound of cracking shells and coughs.

"And if it's ingested?" Alexandre wanted to know

"Tough to say. It really depends on the venom and what its purpose is. Usually someone's safe as long as it doesn't enter the bloodstream. But any kind of opening—a tear in the digestive track, an ulcer, a sore in the mouth..." He shook his head. "The prognosis isn't good. I'm sorry, this probably isn't a good table discussion."

"You're fine, Christoph." Gigi murmured, letting her fork rest along her bowl. "We should know what we're dealing with, and what that means for anyone who drinks from the bottles we've made. You said it depends on the venom's purpose, what did you mean?"

"Well," the man started, "There's hemotoxic venom. It makes the blood clot. It attacks the circulatory system and the heart. Neurotoxic which affects the nervous system. And cytotoxic. They type of venom that attacks the muscles and causes tissue death. That's why it's so important to know where the venom came from, so the right anti-venom can be given."

"And this venom? Is there any way to tell which—"

"After seeing to Mr. Grayson today, I'm afraid to say it's all the above." He uttered, watching the Wayne children grow as stiff as driftwood. "

"Have-have you ever seen anything like it before?" Delilah asked, not sure if she recognized the hoarse words coming out of her. But the man was silent, letting the seconds drag as his thick fingers rubbed against the brown stubble on his chin.

The second her fingers reached up to touch the tender square of medical tape on her neck, the man lifted his dark doughy eyes as if he'd finally decided what to say. "I have. " He whispered, fingers picking at the shell of a crab gently, methodically. "Paige was tasked with creating anti-venom from something that was found in the Caribbean. A new species, something so rare that she had to recreate the venom from a sample and make an anti-venom from it." He said slowly, keeping his gaze down at the newspaper.

"Did she?"

"I'm not for certain." He uttered. "I don't even know how it fell into her lap." He went on, glancing at the pale faced teen. "The government big wigs jumped in, thanked her for her time and stole her research out from under her. She left shortly afterward."

"Why'd my mom leave?" The girl pressed, watching the man shake his head.

"Something completely different." He said plainly, eyes falling to the pile of shells on the table as the silence rolled across the porch. No one was eating anymore. "She was being harassed." He murmured, wincing at the sharp bleating of the pager on his hip. "She had a stalker."

"_Who_?! Mom never would've let someone get to her like that!"

The man's chest seemed to collapse as he rose slowly to his feet. "I thought so too. But that makes us both wrong, Miss Wayne. Paige was no push over. But neither was this stranger, especially if he could scare someone like her."

* * *

She couldn't think in that hurried murmur of voices. She couldn't stand to hear them chat about her mother as if she were nothing more than a bit of gossip.

_"She ran to Gotham the second she had a chance."_

_"I never thought she was like that. Her father ran from his problems, is it that far of a stretch?"_

_"Hell, she ran away from Wayne didn't she?"_

_"Why didn't she say anything?! We could've helped her!" _

Del ran to the darkness the moment she could. Only the stars could see her shivering in a set of clothes that didn't belong to her, her nails digging angry half-moons into her arms through the thin sweater. Strange, how a bit of pain could numb it all away. "My mother wasn't a coward." The girl spat, watching tide roll in as if it were nothing but ink. She wasn't sure how long that shape had been there, head tilted to the patchy sky.

"No. No she wasn't. Don't hold it against them, Little Bit. It's how they process what they don't understand." The man uttered, breath rising to sky like smoke. "I'm sorry you didn't get the answers you were looking for."

"He was scared wasn't he?"

"I believe so."

"He didn't tell us everything."

"I don't think he could." Beau whispered, letting the sound of prattle laughter echo over their silence.

"What will this do? To _Devereux-Verre_, I mean? What about them? What about—"

"Don't worry about that. Our legacy isn't all fire and glass and pretty French words." The man said gently, tilting his head toward the shadows that were wandering down the beach. She could only imagine what the Dragon Lady had to say to Ra's Al Ghul's grandson. "It's survival. Always has been. The source of the contamination was found, that's all that matters."

"They must've tested a bottle that hadn't been washed." But why? Why would someone go through all the trouble of getting Gillespie out of prison to do it? _Dad's_ probably there now.

"Maybe, but it seems irresponsible." The man grumbled, blowing another misty breath into the darkness. "Or it was tested that way on purpose. Like or not Little Bit, you _are_ a part of this family. " He told her, watching her press her arms into her chest as the thought began to sink in. Shaking his head he slung a jacketed arm around the girl and pulled her to his side, giving her bony shoulders a squeeze.

"It has _everything_ to do with Mom..." The girl croaked. "She's the only thing that ties us all together. Dad. Me. This family. The venom." The words were tumbling out of her faster and faster, as if that would shed the ache off of them. As if it would loosen the tightness climbing up her throat. "I hardly knew her. I hardly knew her at all…" Before she knew the tears were spilling.

"No, no, Bébé. You knew all the best parts of her and you still do. I see them in you all the time. Your mother was the type who gave this world everything she had, be it kindness or sass. And yet, as brutally honest as she could be, she still managed to look at this world as if still had magic left—still had hope." He murmured, looking over the girl's head as his mother and the boy climbed the stairs back into the light of the veranda. "She never gave up on a soul the second she saw something good in them. She was stubborn like that. You just got short changed on time with her, _ma petite_. We all did." He murmured, watching her pull the sleeves of the sweater over her hands to dab her eyes.

"Sorry. I just—God, I must seem like a psycho." The teen laughed, summoning rough kind of sound from her uncle in return. "One second I'm saying how much someone should suffer and the next I'm crying like a little girl who misses her mommy."

"Psycho? Oh, please, Darlin' you just said what the rest of us were thinking." He objected, giving her a wispy smirk. "You're just like the rest of us. We're nothing but a bunch of proud heathens." He teased, feeling that slender body shake with a laugh.

"Can I ask you something?" The girl whispered, tilting her head to the sky and stars once more. "You said to Mom that a man doesn't travel hundreds of miles for nothing. What were you talking about? You were talking about my dad. Did…did she really run from him?"

The man beside her seemed to be shrinking with a careful breath. For a long moment she was sure the man wouldn't answer, and yet he was patting her arm. "He came here for your mom once." He said suddenly, feeling her grow stiff under his arm.

"Wait—let me back up. After my sister died...Paige came here. She had to be half way through her pregnancy with you. And the only thing she'd say is that Gotham wasn't safe for her and that your father would come for her when he was ready." He said, pausing to tilt his head to the half cloudy sky.

"Your father had quite the reputation then. I thought maybe she was ashamed. Or maybe the playboy wasn't ready to grow up and be a father. It pained me—" He said slowly. "To watch her wait for him. I hated him for it-she was like a daughter to me. I never once thought she was in any _real_ danger. It never occurred to me that he could've been trying to protect her—protect you both. I just didn't know, and your mother never would say.

"And then he just showed up, out of the blue." He said giving a shrug. "I half hoped they'd amend the situation. But the only thing that came out of it was an agreement to pretend he hadn't fathered you at all. I couldn't wrap my head around it. She was so in love with him, it was excruciatingly obvious. She told me later that he did in fact purpose. She just couldn't do it. Something about the timing of it all—knowing what I know now, Little Bit, there could've been a slew of reasons they did what they did." He said softly, letting a hand perch on the top of her head. "That's something you'll have to ask your dad."

_"Great…" _

The man just simpered at her. "I do know they were just trying to protect you." He murmured, half tilting an ear to the twang of strings that was echoing out to sea. Even now, he could see the teen closing her eyes as if the sound was welling up the same memories. "I know Chris was vague, but it did put a theory in my head." He said, watching those big eyes fly open. "I wonder if Paige started working on her project before or _after_ her brother resurfaced."

"The venom was from the Caribbean. And Pena Duro..."

"Ah, you know about Benji." He said lightly. "Pena Duro Prison is in Santa Prisca." He said giving a nod as if he knew she was connecting the dots. "Wonder if he's still holding down that little hole in the wall."

"You know…"

" Of course, I try to keep tabs on everyone in this family. I just can't force them to make the right choices. He wasn't always such a bad egg. But when he finally came back…he was changed. "

But how much about Bird did the man know? Did he know about his involvement in Nine Circles? Or his association with Bane? If he had he would've mentioned it, right? And as much as her mouth wanted to open and her tongue wanted to move, she couldn't seem to make it happen.

"Can I ask you one more question?"

"One more."

"Would 'more than' mean anything to you?" Delilah asked, watching the shadows inch across his face as his brow pinched together. "Regarding Mom, I mean." She put in, grimacing at the faint light of the porch as he twisted her away from the sea.

"Not off the top of my head—you found something…didn't you?" He probed, releasing her at the stairs. But the girl just shook her head and stomped up the steps, letting the faint light of lanterns and the sound of music lead her way.

"Uncle Beau, are you sure you shouldn't be the next dragon?"

* * *

"Name the dog."

"_You_ bought the dog, _you_ name it!"

"He's a gift, Damian."

"A distraction more like! How stupid do you think I am?! I want to go on patrol. I belong out there, same as you!" The boy shouted, slinging his arm away from the slobbering Great Dane puppy at his side. He could see that shadow pause on the stairs. It seemed to be collapsing with a soundless sigh.

"The dog is a gift. Your self-control has improved, I want to see that continue."

"There's already a dog here!" Damian spat pointing at the Doberman who was curled up beneath the heavy metal chair at the bat-computer. But no sooner had the child's snapping words echo through the cave, did the creature unwind himself. Giving the pup a wide girth and a low growl he staggered for the stairs, snorting and sniffing with disdain. Not even a dog could get any shut eye in this place.

"Your sister's dog."

"What's hers will become mine. It's inevitable." Damian hissed, listening to his father's soft footfalls and the scratching of a canine's claws. "This was her stupid idea I bet." He said aware the man had hesitated, brief as it may have been. "You tell her if she's done sulking and ready to get her ass handed to her again I'll be waiting. The longer she makes me wait—the more it's going to hurt."

"Name the damn dog!" The man called, slamming the door behind him. The last time he gave a ten year old a dog, the child was excited. But then Del wasn't as openly suspicious as the boy. "Just can't win with that kid, can I?" He muttered, watching the Doberman still long enough to stretch and yawn before wandering up the grand staircase dead set on the light that was spilling into the hall.

When was the last time he slept? Two days ago? Or was it going on three? Hell, he wasn't sure anymore. He was sure however, that he hadn't left the office light on. As he caught sight of that weary eyed thing sitting on the floor in front of that gaping safe, he could only slide in closer, watching her pull the master key from around her neck. "I was wondering where that disappeared to."

At that rasping, Del tilted back her head, letting those wide eyes settle on him. "Sure you were. I bet you knew _exactly_ where it was."

"From day one." He said, watching the Doberman collapse to the floor and deflate like a balloon against the girl's leg, paying no mind to her pinched face as his head settled on the bruises that Damian had left behind. "What you and Damian were doing—"

"How's Dick?"

"No worse." He offered, letting his weary bones sink into the empty desk chair. "And no better. Barbra's with him now." The girl only hung her head, making that white patch on her neck visible in the lamp light. "And what about you?"

"Alive." The girl uttered, casting her eyes anywhere but upon him. "Someone out there really—really hates me." She added, watching his shadow jolt along the wall when a strangled laugh burst out of her aching throat. "I must be annoying as hell. This is what? Attempt three?"

"Del-"

"Who's Cassandra Cain?" She asked suddenly, stealing the words from his lips as she looked down to the small document in her lap.

"What are you doing with that?" He snapped, snatching the article from her. "Stop evading my questions."

"Right, like you're the only one in this house that can do that. My bad, I forgot." She muttered, rolling her eyes when that narrowed gaze fell on her. "You know where I picked that up, don't you?"

"Didn't say I had to like it." He griped, letting the paper fall to his lap as his mouth fell to his hand. If she could feel the weight of his gaze she never looked up, the girl simply sat there, staring at the creases in her hands. "She was someone I tried to adopt years ago. A girl who came from the league of Assassins. Cassie was worse off than Damian ever thought of being."

"It was my floor routine." The words were dry, as if everything in that shell on the floor had been used up and burned. The day was finally catching up with her. The flights back and forth, her mother's whirlwind family, the attempt on her life _and _practice. "Tim's not exactly well versed with aerobatics. Dick's—" She stopped and shrugged. "That leaves the demon child."

Damian's idea of practicing a gymnastic floor routine was no different than a one sided sparring match. But he had a feeling she knew that. "Looked like he was beating the stuffing out of you."

"Pretty much." The girl sighed. "But I can take it. I'm sorry it didn't work out for Cassie." She uttered, peeling the paper from his fingers and hiding back into the safe where she found it, saying not another word in their loaded silence. She didn't ask and he wouldn't say. "He hasn't named that dog you got him, has he?"

"Nope. Thinks I have ulterior motives."

"_You totally do_. You actually think a puppy is gonna keep him to the house?"

"Worked on you."

"Only because I _let_ it. Damian won't." Del said plainly, pressing her back into the drawers of the desk. "I was trying to be _good_. I thought if I was a _good girl_, Dad'll be happier. He could care a less about happiness. But he does want your respect."

"And how do you…"

"Dad—don't make me hit you." Delilah warned, face creasing as she pulled her bruised legs into her chest. "It was Clay Face who took Gillespie's place in prison, wasn't it?" She asked, pressing her chin into her knees so she couldn't see her father's mouth flopping open. Didn't he know those were the only two things she ever wanted from him?

"Yes." Someone was going through a great deal of trouble to make this happen. It required time. Time to watch the shift changes and cell counts. And money. Enough money to pay the guards to look the other way. Enough money to set St. James free and entice Clay Face to impersonate not one but two people. First Jason, now Gillespie?

"You're going out there again?" Her voice, it seemed so small in their silences. It was enough untangle him from his winding thoughts and lift his head from his hand. "I could go too. I know that I'm not—I just wanna—"

"I know you fainted today." He murmured, watching her crumble closer to the floor as if the words were weighing her down

"Damian! That little snit-"

"_Gisele_ called me."

"You didn't mention _that_ when I called you about the soda ash." She grumbled, ignoring his smug silence. _Yeah, yeah, you don't have to tell me anything, you're the God damn Batman, I know!_ The thought to retort further dissipated the second she felt the weight of cool fingertips on her neck, skin pulling with peeling tape.

"So about you and Tim-"

_What? did you think he was going to ignore that?_ "It was just a kiss, Dad." Del groaned, not able to stop the wince as he tilted her neck closer to the lamp light.

"That's how things start." He said flatly, unsure if he was frowning at the angry cuts the syringe had scraped into her neck or that rushing pulse that was sinking into his fingertips. She was lucky. She was damn lucky. "We should talk about that—eventually." He murmured, listening to that annoyed breath fill the space between them. It wasn't like she didn't have a decent head on her shoulders, but even so… with a boy he worried about one idiot. With a daughter he was suddenly weary of them all.

"Dad?"

"I want Alfred to redress this—"

"—did you ever propose to Mom?"

He had every right to go still, every right to let the question go unanswered. But when she heard his chair squeak as if he was peeling himself from it, the quiet left her feeling hollow.

"Once." He uttered, pressing the patch back into her skin before reaching around her and into the darkness of the safe well aware his fingers knew what they were reaching for. There was a time he never wanted to see this box again. Of course Alfred always seemed to know better. Setting the thing in his daughter's hands he shook his head, looking away when her slender fingers pulled it open. "She turned me down." He added, well aware that the leotard clad girl was twisting the little ring over in her hand.

"Why?" She whispered, prying her eyes from the diamond to the man who'd gone still as stone beside her. "She loved you." She said, the words cracking and squeaking as if they surprised her just as much as they wounded him. "And you clearly loved her—I don't get you guys. What? Did she give you an ultimatum or something? Was it because you're Batman?"

"No—"

"Then what was it?! What?! What was it?!"

"_You_!" He snapped, watching the color drain from her face as she lurched away from him, smacking into the desk. "Damn it, Girl." The man growled, rubbing his fingers over his mouth as the girl curled in on herself like a creature who'd just been struck. "This isn't coming out right." He rasped. "She chose you. And if you'd keep that trap shut for a second, you'd know that you were the only choice she had." He murmured, watching her slide the ring back into its box.

"Bane was giving me a lot of trouble back then." He stated, watching Delilah lift her head out of the corner of his eye. "Your mother was starting her second trimester when he broke my back. He didn't want to just _break the bat_. He wanted to destroy me and everything around me. He was digging into my life—my personal life—I couldn't let him find out about her. It wasn't safe for either of you."

"So you sent her away. That's why she went back home."

"Yes."

How did they manage this time and time again? How could they fill the air with so many unsaid things that it almost made it hard to breathe? "I should have left her there." He said suddenly, aware that Del had tilted her head back against the desk, setting her wide eyes on him—a heavy thing that gaze of hers. "After everything, she was the first—" But then Bruce Wayne simply shook his head. "It was pure selfishness..."

Under her father's murmur, Del let herself back sink into the jutting handles of the desk drawers, too fixated on the man's candidness to move. She was the first woman who didn't turn out to be an enemy. She was the first woman to accept him for all his jagged pieces. She couldn't blame him for not wanting to let her go. He'd never had that before. Someone he didn't have to hide the truth from, someone who loved the man bats and all.

"I asked her then. But she just closed the box and gave it back. It's not that she didn't want to give me the answer I wanted. She couldn't. She just gave the box back to me and said, not yet."

"Not because of Batman…but because of Bane."

He nodded. "She was aware of the risks. She was willing to take them, but she wasn't about to risk you. You understand?"

"Bane could've used us as leverage against you." The teen whispered, watching her father close his heavy lids as if the truth made him ache. But he nodded. "Against her brother too…" She said softly, letting her hand flop down to the sleeping dog pressed into her side. "That's why she raised me by herself. Why I have two birth certificates—and why one of them says 'father unknown'." She said nodding to the safe.

"She gave Alfred the real one. Just in case. She didn't want Bane to suspect anything. I mean, Bird was her brother so if he told Bane he had a sister, if he knew about her... she didn't want anyone knowing the truth."

"I wasn't very keen on that. But yes."

"She was protecting us." Delilah said hoarsely, the weight of the words causing her stomach to sink. Her father never took lightly to someone else _protecting_ _him_. A kick to his pride perhaps. "Did it ever seem safe enough?"

"I thought so. But you know what they say about fools." He murmured. "You were growing up so fast—I—" But the man shook his head. "Do you remember the day I came to your mother's house?"

"Yeah...it was the first time I'd ever really met you. I mean, I knew who you were—I saw you around the office." The girl stopped and shrugged. "You helped me butcher that pumpkin."

His smile was tight and small, strained like the sound that came choking out of him. "It was a part of the plan…to let us get to know each other. Before I asked her again. She didn't just want to throw you into the deep end."

Even in the faint light he could see the wrinkles marring the teen's brow. "When were you guys..."

"The Friday after you were released from your surgery." He murmured, his shadow lording over her as he peeled himself up from the chair, aware of the sudden tension that had flooded the room.

"Mom was buried on a Friday." The whisper all but forced her father to pause. He didn't just bury the mother of his child, or his friend. He had to put all that was left of that stolen life in the ground with her."You'll be back in time for the flight tomorrow…right?" She asked, catching the man at the door as she pulled herself up from the floor.

"I promised, didn't I?"

"But now you have another reason to go to Santa Prisca, don't you? You're going to pay Bane a visit, aren't you? You think it was his venom Mom was recreating—"

"Make sure you lock up. No leaving this house. Is that clear?"

"But—what about Dick?"

"Straight home afterward." He called, disappearing down the hall.

"Dad?" But as the girl rounded the corner, the man was gone. If Bane was the next target, who was he going after tonight?

* * *

"Del! Del, you have to come with us!" It was just a moment—a second when she found herself looking away from her staff wielding opponent to glance toward that tight voice. A split second was all it took to realize her mistake, before that whistling staff smacked across her cheek, forcing her eyes to tear from the sting and her mouth to fill with blood. "Oh, shit."

Spitting the blood at her feet, Delilah slithered back from the spring loaded mat, just as Tim's blunt fingers sank into her tender shoulders forcing a surprised yelp out of the girl as he yanked her from Damian's striking range. Tim had no choice but put up his arm and take the hit "Yo! Is this really necessary?!"

"You distracted her." The boy said flatly giving Tim a jab to the chest. "It's her own fault. She let you distract her. Now, get your hands off my sister, Drake, or I'll break your face." He hissed, tilting his head as the disdain began to roll across the older teen's face, but no sooner had he taken that step forward, did his sister's long fingers clutch into Drake's shirt. "In your case, it'd be an improvement."

"You little-"

"_Tim_. It's okay. I'm okay. He's just trying to help me."

"_Help_ _you_?! Looks like he's beating the crap out of you!" He cried, his voice still echoing when her fingers wrapped around his sinewy arms. "You're all bruised up, Del. Look at your legs. There's gotta be another way. Why didn't you ask? I would've helped you."

"You would've been way too soft on her, Drake. She's breakable, but she's not glass." Damian sneered, tossing the staff to the side as his sister's hands slid from the idiot.

"I need you to come with us. I think you need to see this."

"Let me throw some track pants on or Alfred will blow a gasket if he sees me like this. Damian, we're taking a break."

"Better be a small one." He snipped, watching the girl trot over to the small bench where her things sat, leaving him to stand there next to Drake as the girl worked the pants over her leotard. "As weak as she is, she's still too much for you."

"Observation of yours? No one's ever going to be good enough for your sister in your eyes."

"No, a fact. Though you may be correct." Damian said, glancing at the older boy. "Don't look so pleased. You still fall in 'not good enough' category."

"Good thing it's not up to you. Because what you see and what I see are two different things." Tim said, leaving him there as he strolled right up and threaded his fingers into Del's hand, leading her and that friend of hers through the door.

"Not up to me? _Tch_. That's what you think."

* * *

"I need you to bear with me, okay?"

She wasn't sure what he was doing when he led her to the foyer, but as his fingers slid down her elbows, she had no choice but to nod and swallow against the sudden knot that was bobbing in her throat. She wanted to twist her head, she wanted to see where Sam and Damian had wandered off to, and yet she was caught—held by those sea green eyes. Was he hesitating?

"Where was the Joker?" He started, fingers griping tighter on her knobby elbows when the surprise rolled through her. "Where was he standing exactly, do you remember?"

Did she remember? How could she forget? When she didn't trust her mouth to answer, Del nodded, closing her eyes as if she could suddenly see the man standing in her home once more, his laugh shaking the manor for everything it was worth. But just as she might be swallowed by the sound echoing through her memory, that voice was there, wading out to her.

"Can you show me?" He asked, the warm puff of his breath was close enough to reach out and touch her. "Please?" Only when his calloused hand gripped around hers did the teen lift her head, letting a steady breath ease from her aching lungs as she stepped back, counting her steps as she led Tim through her memories. Only the pulse of his reassuring hand seemed to root her to present.

"Right...here." She uttered, pushing him back into position until her hand could no longer reach him. For a long moment he didn't say a word. As if he knew she was wading through the smoke and the blood splatter they could no longer see.

"Alfred!"

At the sound of his name, the old man poked his head out of the kitchen, brow knitting as he caught the children of Wayne Manor standing so still in the entrance hall. "Of-of course, Master Tim." The man said, said, knocking the kitchen towel over his shoulder.

"Can you move Alfred to where Dr. Elliot was standing?" Again Delilah nodded, paying no mind to the old butler's wrinkled brow as the blank faced girl led him to that fateful spot on the floor.

"Now," Tim stated, the air sucking through his teeth as she faced him with that dead eyed gaze. She wasn't in front of them. Not really. "Can you move my arm just like the clown's was when he—" He couldn't even finish the request when her fingers latched onto his arm, but now the girl's brow was arching when she realized what was in his hand. A laser pointer.

"Alfred's about the Doctor's height, right?"

"Yeah. Pretty close."

"And this was where everyone was standing?"

"Yeah…" The girl whispered, watching the old Brit look down at his chest when that red dot appeared on his body.

"Then how in the clown manage to shoot him in the heart when this is barely clipping the bottom of Alfred's ribs?"

"The bullet—"

"Miss?"

"It should've hit the wall behind you…even if he had shot you."

Alfred's dark brows rose. "But it wasn't the wall that needed to be repaired, Miss Wayne."

"No. It was...that tile at your feet."

"Okay, Sam!" Turning about, Del could see the red line of another laser pointer streaking across room. But this line was hitting Alfred square in the chest, angling down to the tile at the man's feet. Sam was lying on the floor above them, her light peering through the banister railing.

"The Joker didn't kill Dr. Elliot. He couldn't have made the shot." Damian put in suddenly, rising from his seat on the stairs.

"Look at that." Tim mused. "We actually agree on something."

"A statistical probability that was bound to happen. Don't start getting ahead of yourself, Drake." The boy muttered, watching his sister pace across the foyer with her phone squashed between her ear and her shoulder.

"Call me. _Immediately_." The words were quick and sharp, like her meandering steps. "Alfred, have you heard from Dad at all?"

"Not in the last few hours, Madame." Pennyworth murmured, watching her stare down at the phone as if she were expecting it to come to life.

"He always ignores you." Damian said giving yawn as the girl redialed again. "I would too."

"Not when I call him back to back like this—" She started, her body shrinking with relief as the phone hummed in her hand. It was a part of their code. A way for him to know there was a problem. "Dad! You need to hear me out—"

_"Hold it, Little Bit." _She could've crumbled right there.

"Uncle Beau. I'm really sorry, but I have to—"

_"I think you need to hear __**me**__ out, Ma petite. I've been thinking about what you asked me. About your mama and the 'more than' thing? You know what it means." _

"I do?" The girl paused, sucking up all the air her greedy lungs could take. "Uncle Beau I don't have time for games-"

_"You should! She only said it to you every night."_

* * *

She wasn't sure how many pieces her phone had become when it hit the floor. She just remembered tearing through the house, semi aware of the excited voices calling from behind her as she sprang for the darkness and those familiar squeaks and chirps. Her mother's voice was still whispering in her head when the girl leapt from the stairs and stumbled for the bat-computer. _How much do I love you?_

"More than all the stars, Mama. More than all the stars." The whispers came, breathy and automatic. Had her mother been grooming her with the right answer all this time? The thought put a sour taste in her mouth as she tore the chair out of her way, vaguely aware of the sound of feet following after her.

"Mom knew-that this could—_would_ happen—she _knew_." One attempt left. Fingers shaking, the teen put them to the keyboard, unsure if the collective breath she heard was even her own as she slowly put in the string of letters. The enter key sank and everything went blank, throwing the cave into darkness.

"_No_-"

_Access Granted_.

* * *

"You look exhausted."

"That's a nice way of saying I look like crap." Delilah uttered, watching their breath flee to the sky in wispy clouds as they stumbled through the crusty snow. If it wasn't for Tim's hand weighing her to this world, her body could have floated away. Maybe that was just the lack of sleep playing tricks on her.

"Déjà vu."

At that her lips couldn't stop the small smirk. She wasn't too sure what Timothy Drake had planned when he roused her from her thinly veiled sleep and mountainous blanket in the bat cave, beckoning her beckoning her with a couple sets of skates. It didn't seem like the right time—but how could she say no?

"I only found the bat-mobile." Tim said suddenly, as if he knew where her thoughts were wandering off to. "You know that doesn't mean much."

"It's not unlike him to go off the grid—he does it all the time." Del murmured, fingers unwinding from Tim's gloved fingers as they both eased onto the frozen pond bank. "It's just…it's not like him to ignore me—ignore the code." She shook her head, relieving Tim's fingers from the weight of her skates. "Thank you for going out there and looking for him." She whispered, listening to his fingers still in the knots of his shoes.

"If I didn't, you would've tried—" He stopped and shook his head, ducking under the narrowing of those pale blue eyes. "The anti-venom is more important." He said quickly, holding up a hand before she decided to sock him. "It's your mother's documents—" He shrugged. "Demon child doesn't seem particularly worried."

"No." But he didn't know all the little ticks and mannerisms they shared either. "I wasn't either…not until…"

"Alfred called Clark." Tim put in, easing up on his blades, holding his hand out to the girl as her fingers fell from the knots of her skates. They both knew it was boy scout who sent Tim back. The question was, why?

"You hate this."

"You don't. And I-" He started, pulling the girl up. But he didn't expect her weight to come crashing into him. Hands panicking, he clutched her, mashing her warm breath into his neck as her blades dug into the ice. "I thought you could use a few minutes. No bats. No venom. A small break where you're not trying answer all the questions I know you've got running through your head." He said, aware that her fingers were slowly prying from his coat. "You just gotta promise to help me back up when I fall on my ass."

To that the girl grinned. "Sure. Right after I finish laughing at you." He would've rolled his eyes, he would have stared at the ice covered branches of the pines above their heads, listening to her teasing giggle spill out into the darkness—if her gloved fingers hadn't reached up to his cheek, pulling him down until her lips were caught between his.

"What is this?" She asked, when their lungs could no longer hold out, leaving them gasping for the thin icy air.

"It's called kissing last I checked." Tim teased, aware her lips were breaking into a smile against his mouth. "Alfred might call it snogging or something."

"_No_." The word was breath and threaded with a giggles. "What is this we're doing? Does it have any meaning to it?" For a split second she founder her fingers digging into the lapel of his coat, as if it might root him to the ice, as if it might keep him from running away. But when he pried her hands away, a weight she didn't know she had began sliding to her feet.

"Do you want it to mean something?" He asked suddenly, clutching her hands between them. She couldn't know…he couldn't let her know how hard his heart was hammering. He couldn't let her keep these slender cold fingers on his chest.

"I-"

"What are you two dorks doing?! _Ooo_!"

Hearing Sam's call, Delilah had no choice but to swallow the words as they both turned toward the car that had paused at the end of the drive. Even in the dark she could see the girl's devious grin. "Where are you running off to?"

"To grab Barb a fresh set of clothes and some real food. I'll link back through the computer and give Damian a hand as soon as I can."

"I'll come relieve her in a few hours."

"Wait, you're not going to Santa Prisca with Del?"

"And leave Dick unguarded? No way in Hell."

When Samantha only nodded, Del waved her off, watching the car slid through the gate, taillights slowly disappearing down the dark winding road. "You're the only person I trust with him—other than Barb." The girl uttered, closing her eyes as his lips brushed the top of her head.

"If you want me to go-"

"No, you're right. Someone has to be with him. He's always protected everyone else. Especially me." She said, feeling the breath catch when he pulled her further onto the ice.

"And I will. So let me take that burden." He whispered, paying no mind to the ice shavings that were skirting around their feet. "Now, c'mon, we've got ten minutes. Before Alfred will come looking for us."

* * *

He made it easy—easy to melt the thoughts that had all but seized every waking second she had to herself. He made it easy to laugh, spilling opaque clouds into the sky with only the stars and swaying trees to hear. By the time they slipped their way back into the house, they were soaked and shivering—frost bitten and flushed by a new wave of stubborn shyness.

_"Do you want it to mean something?" _

Why now? Why did his question haunt her now? Peeling away the wettest layer of her clothes, she could see that boy in the corner of her eye, the firelight dancing across his cheek as he pulled his damp sweatshirt over his head. She knew a great many things—she knew that a simple look at him had her heart running away. She knew that he had the kind of laugh that delighted her, when and if she could hear the scarce thing. She had his ear when she needed it and when she thought she'd have to wade through the trouble on her own, he was there. _You already mean something to me I just don't know what that is. _Love?

The thought only made her skin prickle. Who did love really worked out for? It didn't seem to stop Barb and Dick from breaking apart. What great example did she have? Her parents? They were romantic in their own way, letters and all. But what had love done for them? She could see its affects. She could see the way her mother's memory weighed on her father—the way it wounded him. If love wasn't so dangerous, why was it so hard for him to love his own child? Love was beautiful and the most painful way to injure someone else. _I don't want to hurt you. _

Shaking off the thoughts, Del eased herself to the floor, letting her head sink to Tim's shoulder as he pressed his back into the side of the couch. The last thing she could remember the feel of his chest rising beneath her cheek…

"Miss. Miss Wayne, you need to come with me."

It was Alfred's shaking that pried her away from the warm spot she'd hollowed out for herself in Tim's side. By the time she pried her eyes open, the den had changed. The fire had died to embers and the darkness was a paling gray. "Did Dad come home?" She asked, willing her jellied limbs up, aware that Tim was all coming awake.

"Just come with me."

The urgent whisper all but shook daze from her as she followed the man out to the foyer and up the stairs, unsure why the air was getting harder to grasp into her lungs. When he simply paused by the office door, Delilah pocked in her head, feeling her brow pinch as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. The office was in shambles, and there, ripping and tossing things from the safe, was her father.

"Where is it?! Where?!"

"Dad?"

She could see the ripple rolling through the man's broad back as her voice reached out to him, forcing him to ease out of the safe, and tilt that face toward her. The lips, the cheeks, the chin, the forehead-all the same. But his eyes. There was something about those eyes. They were blue, but they weren't the right shade.

"You okay?"

"Fine. I'm fine, Del." He said, chest collapsing as he loosened his breath and climbed to his feet.

"Don't forget, we have a flight today." She said, anxious to twist for the door, but surprised to see that face crumble with confusion. "_You forgot_." She sighed, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. "We're going to Santa Prisca today. Reginal competition? You promised."

"I did, didn't I? Sorry, Sweetheart, totally slipped my mind." He said, following her out to the landing. "Alfred, my coat, if you please."

"Of course, Master Bruce."

"You'll be back in time for the flight, right?" She asked, watching Tim pause at the bottom of the stairs.

"What time was it again?" Her father asked, sliding into the coat that Alfred had brought him.

"2pm."

"2pm. Got it. I'm just gonna run to the office. I'll be back in time." He assured her as he turned for the stairs, pausing to peck her on the cheek.

"Yeah, wouldn't want to miss out on the bikinis."

"Very funny."

"Tell me I'm wrong."

"Can't." He said, twisting around and flashing her a smile.

"_Eww_, whatever. 2pm! Love ya, you gross old man."

" 2pm. Love you too."

The second the shutting door echoed through the house, Del could feel her fingers digging into the banister, listening to the sound of a car door opening, closing and tearing down the driveway like a bat out of Hell.

"What the hell was that?"

"I don't know." Del hissed, as she all but flew down the stairs. "Dad's only called me sweetheart one time. _Just one time_. And he's never been able to just fling out a 'love you' like that. He _can't_. I don't know who that was, but that's not my dad."

* * *

"Damian! Damian wake up!"

His cheek was still numb from pressing it into his arm when he lifted his head, unsure what had that thing he called a sister buzzing around like a bat on crack.

"What's your major malfunction?" He groaned, stretching as he watched her snatch the suits from the cases. "I don't get it. Father's particular. Your mother was just aa thorough. What's your excuse?"

"Up! Now! Grab everything you have on the anti-venom. All of it! We have to put the cave on lockdown!" When the boy glowered at her, the sleep still crusted in his eyelashes, she paused. "Someone came into this house wearing our father's face. He'll be looking for this place next. We can't let that happen."

"What was he looking for in the safe?" Tim asked, as he hurriedly tossed supplies into an open duffel bag.

"I don't know. It doesn't make any sense." Delilah shot out. "Barb has supplies, and if Dick's apartment isn't compromised, we'll raid his stuff if we have to-" The words faltered, stilling the maddening clack of the keyboard as the girl froze by the table. There, sitting in that little glass box was that crudely made bird of stone. "Bane's favor. _Son of a bitch_. I'll have to see the man myself."

Hurling the glass box, Del scavenged the stone from the broken glass, and shoved the thing in her pocket. "And just how are you going to get to Bane?" Damian called, watching the girl turn and flee up the stairs with the dogs chasing after her.

"I have a way!" She cried tearing through the house, aware of the clack of claws that followed her as if the great chase was nothing more than a game. "Please be there, please. Please." She chanted, her feet aching as she flew threw her own hall only to crash into the bedroom door.

Stumbling over her bags and her dirty clothes she fumbled her way to her desk, ripping the upper drawer from the frame until her hand could fit on the inside. It had to be there! It just had to be! Surely her father hadn't found it yet. Finding a bit of duct tape, she ripped the burn phone free, paying no mind to the pair of wet noses that were crowding around her. "Please pick up. Please. Jase, please."

* * *

"How about another round?"

Jason all but slid his empty shot glass toward Bird. He wasn't sure what made him frown more, the fact that this was shot seven, (Or was it eight?) Or the fact that something in his pocket was vibrating, but it wasn't his normal phone. Now wasn't that sobering? "I have to take this. Sorry, guys." He uttered setting down his cards as he shoved himself back from the table. "Or she'll be mad as fuck."

"Let her be mad," The old man said, taking a puff of his cigar as they watched the young man work himself out of his chair. "We're in the middle of a game here."

"Not someone like her. She's a good girl."

"Someone's got his balls in a vice grip."

"Leave him be. Go answer your damn phone." Bird snapped. "Besides, good girls are the worst ones to piss off."

He could still hear them bantering and bitching over the clicking of chips as he slid into the empty bar, fingers fumbling on the tiny buttons. "Talk."

"Jase, I need help. Something's wrong. _I need you_."

* * *

**AN:** This one took forever, I know, sorry! I had to rewrite this one twice. It took a while. There's plenty of Damian snark to go around. There's a few juicy revelations as well. This should answer a few questions about Gigi and Ra's relationship, as well as why Delilah is so unsure about the concept of love and relationships herself. ** Next Chapter - Bane**


	34. Bane & Betrayal

"I need a favor Tommy."

"And here I was thinking you were calling just to chat." Unlikely of course. Elliot knew that. But it put the great Bruce Wayne in his debt. Oh, did he know that too. "What kind of favor? I don't think I have the time to play wingman. Not that you need my help in that area."

The laugh on the other end was chalky and short—the man couldn't even be bothered to fake the pleasantries. A dire favor indeed. "Nothing like that. I wanted to talk to you about a surgery. A corrective heart surgery. I know it's not your field."

There. That was enough to stall him on the busy sidewalk, the desperation in Bruce's voice only caused the man to simper at the dark oily creases in the pavement—for one giddy moment, Philadelphia was forgotten.

"It's not for Alfie, is it?"

"No. No, Alfred's fine. It's…for a child." The man uttered, earning a pause. "Paige's girl."

_Paige._ Teeth aching, Thomas unclenched his jaw. "I see."

"This is some stick and needle kind of stuff, Tommy." He could have laughed at hearing those words coming out of him. What? Were they back to hiding secrets like a pair of ten year olds? Squinting up at the pale gray sky, Elliot forced himself to join the huddled masses at the curb.

"If this is for P's girl, why are you calling in the favor? Don't tell me she's lost my number already." He chided, half waiting for that thick silence on the other end to break as he worked his way across the street, mashing his cheek into his phone.

"She's my girl too."

The words were still ringing in his head when he realized he'd stopped dead in the middle of the crosswalk. "I'll grab the first flight I can back to Gotham."

"Thank you, Tommy."

_No, thank you. _"Don't worry, she'll be in good hands."

* * *

"I need to talk to Bird."

Jason let his fork slide to his plate, "You're killing my buzz." He grumbled, remembering to finish off the half masticated waffles in his mouth as the girl across from him all but crumbled down to the table. "You don't need Bird involved." He said reaching for his coffee as Delilah's lanky fingers curled into fists forcing her red knuckles to go bloodless. "Trust me-"

"YES I DO!" Table rattling, the girl's cheeks went pink when she realized just how still the diner had become. If she felt Mama Lu's arched brow on her back, she said nothing more. She simply let her brow slip into her hand. "Damn it, Jason-"

"_Damn it, Jason_. Why is everyone always damning me? Not like I have enough problems already." _And you're one of them._

"I need..." Watching her teeth dig into that plush bottom lip, Jason lifted up his coffee cup. He had to keep his mouth busy—or else. "…I need to see Bane."

The coffee went across the table, ripping curses out of his mouth as they both franticly reached for the napkins. "Do you even hear yourself right now?!" When the teen wouldn't so much as lift her head, he snagged her busy hands, stilling them on the table. "What you're asking isn't like taking a stroll around Arkham!"

"First,you two are banging my cups and plates around, now your spitting out my fine coffee?"

At the smoky voice, Jason had no choice but peel his palms from those cold shaking hands as they both looked up at the curvy woman who was tossing a roll of paper towels onto the table. She took their mumbling apologies with a roll of her dark eyes. "Baby Girl, you haven't even touched your food." The woman scolded, leaning into top off Jason's cup.

"Don't you be spitting this cup across the table neither, I might just have to pull a Miss P and crack you on your head." She went on, perching her free hand to her hip as the man's head reared back. "Don't look at me like that. I know who you are." She said shaking her head as her attention slid to the girl who'd all but mopped up the mess. "And you. Don't you make me call Oldman Pennyworth, Miss Thing. We have an understandin'?"

"_Yes, Mama Lu_."

"You…came here with my mom?" The whisper was a crackly sound, surprised and suddenly raw. It was certainly enough to pull his attention from the dark-skinned woman who was giving him one of her no-nonsense leers. Returning his eyes to Del, the air went slithering out of his lungs.

This thing across from him seemed so frail, wilting against the table on her exhausted bones. Only the fine coppery hair that slipped from her ponytail seemed to be half hiding those dark circles under her eyes. "Y-yeah." The words all but stumbled from his lips as her fingers uncoiled from her steaming mug to push the wayward hair back behind her ear Strange, all he could concentrate on were the jagged scars peeking just outside her palm. "You should've seen her face when she bit into one of Alfred's waffles for the first time." He went on, aware the teen had gone still. He'd look at anything, his syrup choked waffles or the grounds floating near the bottom of his cup. Anything. Anything that might release him from the oppressive weight of those watery blue eyes. "Delilah…you don't know these people. I do. Hell, what am I saying? I'm one of _these people_—"

"Call. Him."

"Del—"

"Jason."

"You don't know-"

"I know you, don't I?"

With a sour tasting sigh, Jason forced himself to slide from the booth, watching Delilah's frown deepen as he stretched. Time was running short. If she wanted the old grump back, they were gonna have to move fast. _For your sake, Pipsqueak, I hope so. _"Fuck. Move over."

"Why?"

"You wanna sit next to Bird?" he asked, aware that her chest was collapsing as she scooted closer to the window. "That's what I thought." _Nervous, Baby Bat? Good. You should be. Trust no one. Not even me. _But as he sat there watching the girl tug on the charms of her bracelet, he found himself frowning into his phone. Where the fuck _was_ Bruce? And just _who_ was running around with his face? Didn't the asshole know one of them was enough?

* * *

_I don't know if I can do this. _A stronger person wouldn't hesitate. But as Aiden shifted her weight, feeling her light soled boots sink a bit further in the Carolina mud, she could only let a hesitant breath slip out of her lungs. It's not like they asked her to kill him. _But they will. Soon. It's what assassins do. It's what they bought you for. _

"Just do as you're told. No more. No less."

The hiss only reminds the girl that she isn't alone. But she knows better than to take her eyes off the target. Take your eyes off the target and you're liable to feel Lady Shiva's wrath. "You're not from Gotham, are you?" She asks, letting her wet hands rest on her knees. She wants nothing more than to wipe away the raindrops that are inching down her nose, but she doesn't dare move.

It's only in a brilliant flash of lightning can she see everything. The lopsided plantation house, the wispy bones of twisted trunks and bare branches, even the coppery tone of Lady Shiva's face—her almond eyes dark and deep. Her muscles are bracing for contact—but the strike never comes. The woman simply turns her head as if brushing off an insolent child. "No. And neither are you." She whispers, ignoring Aiden's mashing lips. "We have no allegiance. We're from the world and nothing more. You're a part of something bigger now. You can either accept it or let it kill you." The woman says, her slender shape pulling to her feet as a headlight scraped along the tree line. "And it will kill you. Make no mistake about that."

Aiden pulls herself up, swallowing bubbles of air, air that vaguely tasted like bile. She didn't know. She didn't understand. What did this woman know about the city she'd left behind?!

Her entire life had been spent in Gotham. It was all she'd ever known. The ash and rust was all her lungs had ever breathed. It wasn't like their life was charmed. Aiden grew up in the cauldron, among the lower class Irish families and yeah, maybe some Irish Mobsters. Dad's boxing career was at its peak. Mom was healthy. You could still step out into the street. You could still tilt your head and see the stars peeking through the clouds. But then life happened. Shit happened.

The Bowery was all Clara had ever known. The bums in their boxes, the hookers on the corners, the strung out druggies in the allies with their burned lips and blown veins—a far cry from the cauldron. There were more clouds of soot and gunshots than stars. And the only thing that could dare a pair of sisters to step into those greasy streets to tilt their heads to the sky—was a bat shaped light. _No, Aiden. She knows, she just doesn't care. And neither should you. _

She didn't know why the bat was here in the sticks or what he could possibly want with this Chris Donovan. She only knew she only knew that if she didn't do as Lady Shiva commanded, she'd never find Clara.

Donovan? He never should've opened his car door. "Wh-what are you doing _here_?!" He yelped, as the woman landed on the roof of his car.

_Stay still, Aiden. Stay still. Not yet. Breathe. Wait. _

"Someone sang like a bird." Lady Shiva chided, wagging a gloved finger at the man before she hopped to the washed out gravel below.

Chris Donovan was utterly still, face pale in the light cracking overhead. "I've known the Devereux's for years! I-I knew Paige for years! I gave the girl a couple bread crumbs about her mother! I told you people as much! What the hell do you want from me?!"

"Oh, so little birdy chirped. That's easy Mr. Donovan, can't you tell?"

Squinting through the rain, Aiden swallowed as Lady Shiva ripped the man from the car. Maybe it was a knee jerk reaction just to screw her eyes shut when she heard his body slam into the car.

"We want you to die."

_Keep your eyes open. You have to see._

Knees shaking, heart thumping, Aiden let her weight sink against a thin-boned cottonwood, eyes busy watching the glass from the driver's side window fall to the ground like glitter as Donovan's head went through it. It was only when that Kevlar caped shadow overtook the car that Aiden's lungs stopped completely. _You have to do it. What about Clara?_

Donovan slumped to the ground, she could see his shadow crawling along the tires as she left the safety of the tree line, a bloody slew of mud and glass trailing after him. Spying her, he paused—caught in fear of her willowy shadow. But it wasn't the bloody-faced man she was after.

"Now! Now, you little coward!" Lady Shiva cried as Batman slung the woman into the hood. By the time he saw her it was too late. Aiden could only shiver in her rubber boots as the Taser hooks caught him in that small opening of the cowl. _We thought you were impervious. We thought you were stronger than this. We thought wrong. _

Turning loose of the trigger, Aiden wanted to throw the tainted thing into the mud. Staring up at the grumbling gray clouds, she could hear the man groan, shakily trying to regain his composure. "What are you waiting for?" Lady Shiva panted, draping her back against the windshield as if she were lounging in a chair. "They're waiting for us." She said, lobbing a thin looking bat at her. "And pull your hood up, you stupid child."

But the object only seemed to weigh heavily in her hands. The teen was trapped, sure the masked man's eyes were blue in the blinding flash of lightning. His eyes were blue, and her hair was red. It almost seemed to make him pause. But the girl reached for her hood tugging it over her sodden hair as if shadowing her familiar face would somehow make it easier. _You have no choice._

"What about Donovan? He's getting away." The words were thick, and bitter as her fingers flexed around the grip. Out of the corner of her eye, the teen could see Lady Shiva tilt her head back as if weighed down by the thought.

"Oh, Christopher! Don't wander off too far!" She called. "Let him tire himself a little." She sighed, dismissing the man if only for a precious moment. " Now, do as you're told. The Al Ghul's don't like to be kept waiting."

Aiden closed her eyes. Unsure if her quick prayer was for Donovan, the caped crusader, or herself._ You have to. _"I have to." She whispered, lifting the club. _I'm sorry. _She wasn't sure if the man ever saw her mouthed words before the Dark Knight went limp at her feet. _I'm sorry…_

* * *

"P! Open the door! Please P! _Please!_"

Cold, I curled my toes into the hardwood floor, too transfixed on the silhouette that was banging on the front door to dare myself to move. Not even the growl of thunder or snap of lightning could deter me. The anxious plea had bewitched my curiosity. Only the frantic pounding on the door had my muscles jolting, choking Batman in the crook of my arm tighter and tighter with every rap of thick boned knuckles.

"Paige. Oh, come on! It's fucking cold out here. C'mon Sis."

The slurring halted when Jethro's deep baying started to echo through the house. My feet were moving, half listening to my mother's curses as she stubbed her bare foot on the table in the hall in her haste.

I don't know what prodded me forward from the wall. Or how I could've been so spellbound by the strain in that voice that it possessed my little hand to reach for the latch—shadows and lighting be damned.

"Del! NO!"

But it was too late, my fingers had already tugged, allowing the door to swing open with an obliging groan. The bitter wind and the icy rain, made me cling to the door as if it might shield me from the elements as I squirted up and the man who was staggering back on our porch. He was so tall. His eyes were small and wild like the curly blonde hair that was whipping around at his back. But he seemed surprised…surprised to see me.

"Who are _you_?" The words bubbled out of him just as Mama ripped me from the door, charging out into the damp flickering world.

"What are you doing here?! Have you lost your fucking mind?!"

The silhouettes only seemed to meld together on the walls, shadow puppets - angry and drunk. And I just stood there, nervously wiggling my toes in the shiny puddles on the floor. The drips were forgotten as my mother's voice rose. Fierce. Cracking. Foreign. Mama never yelled like that.

"Just drowned it a little. C'mon P, you don't know how long it's taken me to find—"

"Not long enough. Or did you forget what happened the last time—"

"I-I didn't mean for any of that to happen! Aw, Paige, you gotta know that. You gotta—"

"You almost killed me!"

The echo of the thunderous clouds was quickly forgotten. Batman slid from my arms as I frantically reached for the door. No matter how I tugged, the latch wouldn't budge. Mama wouldn't let go. If the world wanted to come in, it would have to go through her first.

"I had to—it was the only way…"

"Mommy?" A simple squeaking whimper and the porch was quiet.

" _Mommy?_ " My mother's shadow didn't move. It was still as if the scoff had paralyzed her. "You're a mama? H-how did that happen—wait I know _how_ it happened. When? _When_ did that happen? That kid! She's yours…aw, Hell…"

"Your niece is three," Mama whispered, voice croaking as if the words were being pulled from her without her consent. "She's just a baby…she's just a baby, Benji."

"You didn't tell me—"

"If _he_ finds out—if one of your _friends_ comes here looking for _you_, what'll happen _then_?"

"Aw, for fuck sake, P. I won't tell him, Okay? I won't I swear. Cross my heart…cross my heart. Can I—can I meet her or…"

But the form in front of the door was shaking her head. "No. You can't. You're not coming in my house. I love you, I do. But I love her more."

"And you should." The stranger's words were clear as if he were sober for the first time that evening. "How can I help you? Tell me how I can help you."

"You can leave. Leave before anyone finds out you been here. Please. _Please_."

In a flicker of lightning, a shadow stumbled off the porch. "I'm sorry…you know that right?"

"Don't tell him. Don't tell him, Benji. Daddy doesn't deserve to know."

"Cross my heart, P."

The door latch wiggled in my hand, forcing me back to allow the soggy woman to slither back inside. Tilting her glistening face to the ceiling I couldn't read the words that soundlessly waded toward the ceiling as she sank into the door. When her trembling fingers fell from the locks I was sure she slide to the floor in a heap—but those glossy eyes found me first.

The air had all but rushed out of my lungs as my mother shot forward. My nervous feet went back and soon there was nothing but wall behind me. Nowhere to go. "Don't you _ever_ do that again!" I found myself pressing my arms into my chest as my mother sank to her knees. "Don't you ever open the door for someone you don't know! Not ever! Do you hear me?!"

My lips felt heavy, opening and closing with soundless words. I didn't know what kind of answer she wanted. I didn't know what warranted the shimmering tracks on her cheeks, or what it was about her grip that made my heart race. Mama wasn't afraid of anything. Right?

"Answer me! Tell me you understand!" She snapped, shaking me as if that might force the words up to my salty lips. Instead, the back of my head hit the wall eliciting a yelp.

"_Owieeee_."

"Shit. Baby, I'm so sorry." The worried lines in my mother's face all seemed to blur together, a jumble of burning tears and wet fabric. Even as I gasped to make my sobs, she was around me, arms tight, breath warm. I don't know how long we sat there, a ball of knobby limbs and sticky cheeks. "Listen to me, Bebe," She whispered, fingers tracing my spine. "Not everyone who comes to our door is good…"

* * *

"What the fuck is this?!"

Lifting her head from her hands, Delilah lost count of the raindrops on the floor. The velvety breath on her ear had long since faded. And yet as she peered up at that grimacing face, all she could see was that man staggering back on their porch. A thinner, older, angry sliver of what was left of memory.

Del was still pulling herself upright when Bird's thick fingers put creases in the front of Jason's coat. "What are you doing here with _her_?! Just what the fuck are you trying to pull-"

"He called you for me!" The words all but fell out of her mouth the second Jason slid a foot out from under the table. _Too many people here. Stop them. _"He called you because I asked him to." The girl uttered, forcing herself not to yank her fingers from Bird's icy hand. "If anyone's pulling the strings here today, it's me." She went on, frantically trying to rip the jagged piece of stone from her pocket. "I need your help."

No hushed whisper could put the color in the man's face, but it did pry his fingers from Jason's coat. "Where…did you get _that_?" He rasped, letting Jason go with a shove.

"You know where." She'd barely swiped the pendant from the table before Bird made his move. Crushed behind Jason's broad back, she could feel her uncle's nails digging into her arm, but then, Bird wasn't moving.

"If you want to keep your limbs, keep them to yourself."

"Really JT? A steak knife?"

"It'll do the job."

"What are you? Her bodyguard?"

"No. I'm hungover and you're getting in the way of my coffee."

No sooner had he slithered from the table, did Jason let the knife down, giving a half shrug as Bird wiped at the small cut it left behind. "How is it a gun running punk like you—runs in the same circles as the Gotham's little princess?" Bird mused, aware of the stiffening body in the corner. _Ah, I've got you now, you little shit. _ "But I digress." He said holding out an empty palm. "Cough up the rock before someone sees you with the damn thing."

"_No_."

"_Girl_. Do you even know what that thing means? Do you even-"

"Perfectly well. You don't want it in my hands, but you sent it to my mom?" The teen snapped, watching her uncle clench his jaw.

"You don't understand."

"Oh, I understand. A little liqueur and the guilt's fresh as Hell isn't it?" She went on, half aware that Jason was sinking back, lifting his cup to his lips as if that might keep him busy. "I can almost understand why you sent it to her. I know what it is…and what it's for."

"You sure run your mouth like your mom." Bird grunted, watching those big blue eyes stare down at the table and the pendant beneath her hand. _ She sure looks like you, P. _He thought at last, watching the thick ponytail slide over her shoulder as she bowed her head. But then just as he was sure he might've gotten through, she lifted her head, cheeks pink and eyes as hard as ice. "Aw…don't tell me. Don't fucking tell me…you want to use it."

A single nod and Bird's face seemed paler than before. _I didn't plan on him backing out._ Her fingers were itching with panic as the man shook his head, staggering back as if she slugged him. "I don't want to."

"Then don't."

The wind was all but rushing out of her when he twisted on his heel, tossing his empty hands into the air. Beside her the weight on the seat was shifting. But before Jason could loosen himself from the table, she snagged him by the coat. "You don't owe me anything."

"You're damn right, Pretty One!"

"But you do owe Mom. She died for this." She called, feeling the warmth of Jason's side as he sank back down beside her. Bird had all but stalled at the door, tossing curses to the ceiling as her voice followed after him. "I guess you didn't think about that, or do you? Can't make the thoughts go away, can you? Just can't drown them no matter how hard you try."

"Geez, you _are_ a bitch, aren't you?"

But the girl ignored the wispy words she could feel hissing out of the body beside her, she was too busy watching the man twist around and storm back toward the table. "Little Girl, you have no idea-"

'Yes, I do. Or did you forget that I was there? Someone knew. Someone sent those men to my mother. Now they're fucking with the rest of my family." She spat, teeth sinking to her lip when her voice started to climb and Jason's elbow began slamming into her ribs. "I'll see him with or without you. But with your help would be _safer_."

"Why? What—"

"The less you know, the safer we all are." Delilah whispered. "Can you help me? Can you set up the meeting? Just tell me which way I'm gonna have to do this. I don't have a lot of options and I'm running out of time."

"And what could a little thing like you—" But as words started they stopped, leaving the man sucking his breath through the gaps in his teeth. "Wayne resources and that damn Devereux temper." He grumbled, sinking into a heap across from them. "Alright, Pretty One, but once this ball starts rolling, there's no stopping it. Are you sure this is what you want?"

_How long can you hold that breath? _But no sooner had he thought Delilah's face would turn purple or blue, she shrank back, nodding more at the table than Bird.

"Y-yeah. I'm sure."

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"That makes two of us."

* * *

"You look like shit."

"Gee, thanks." Tim uttered, untangling himself from the hospital chair, as he squinted at the boy before him. Catching the glint of steel, the teen had barely hit the floor before a blade pierced the back of his chair, catching his shirt in the fall. "Damian what the fuck?!" Tim snapped, as the kid rip his sword free. But the boy offered no explanation but to dive on him, pressing sword against his throat.

"I know where you spent the night!" He roared, half aware of the body that was jolting up from Grayson's chest.

"What's going on here?!"

"Jesus." Tim groaned, letting his head go slack against the floor as he tried to ignore the trickle that was running down his neck, erasing the very spot that Del's breath had been. "Look, it's not—"

"I'm just going to say this once." Damian hissed through gritted teeth. "You so much as lay a hand on her, I'll rip your heart out and feed it to the dogs."

"Damian! Enough!" But no sooner had the redhead wheeled herself closer did the boy relent, watching the pathetic thing on the floor wipe at the blood on his neck.

"Grayson can't help you." He said evenly. "And Father's not here to stop me." He said shaking the remnants of blood off his blade before he slid it back into its sheath.

"Look, Damian, I don't know what the hell your problem is, but I would never hurt your sister! Between the two of us, you're the one who drew her blood!" But the child simply turned his back on him and continued stalking for the door.

"My blood. My sister."

Wincing at the slamming door, Barbra put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "First, are you okay?" She asked as Tim collected himself.

"Y-yeah. I'll be fine." He stammered, staggering for a box of tissues.

"Okay. Second. Care to explain what he's talking about? Did you and Del do something?"

"No! No! Nothing like that!" The boy cried, twisting on his heel. "She—I-" When the words wouldn't come, Tim's shoulders sank, forcing him to frown at the bloodied tissues in his hands. "We were talking last night, and the next thing I know, she's…sleeping against my shoulder. I…I couldn't bring myself to wake her. Hell, Babs. It was probably the only sleep she got last night."

"I see."

"I don't know what's up the demon child's ass."

"Haven't you noticed it yet?" She probed, lifting her gaze to the teen as he went still. "He finally has someone who genuinely cares about him. And he doesn't want to share. Especially not with you."

"But what the hell did I do?"

Oh, that small knowing smile. "You've fallen for her. Even the ten-year-old can see it." Barbra said, eyes crinkling as the words drove Tim back, weighing him back down into his chair. "Scary isn't it?" She asked, as his eyes dropped to his hands. "Giving someone the power to destroy you…and trusting them not to?"

"Terrifying."

The whisper had barely left his mouth before the light of the hall, cut through the dimness. He knew she was there long before he could smell her perfume or before the tinkling of charms reached his ears. His eyes were on the ghost girl. Not her sulking ninja of a brother, or the coffee cup that Sam shoved at him. Just her—a wraith who was tip-toeing around Dick's bed, reaching out to the new tubes of a respirator. _Am I in love with her? _But before he could force the pressure out of his lungs, her lips moved.

"When…"

"This morning." Tim uttered, feeling the heaviness of the room's stare. "The serum had an adverse reaction. It's thickening his blood." But even as the words were falling out of him, all he could concentrate on were those pale hands, hands that were running down Dick's bruised arm as if she might hurt him. "They have him on blood thinners…so he's easily bruised it's not from the venom." He assured her, watching her place her hands on Dick's chest as if she were feeling for the forced rise and fall of his lungs.

"Everything's working to compensate." She whispered. "Dad hasn't been here, has he?"

"No."

"Is everything a go?" Sam asked, easing into a chair with her computer on her lap. "Will Bird do it?"

With a collective breath, Tim leaned forward, "Bird? You sure we can trust him?"

"No." Del croaked, turning toward him, finally letting him see those exhausted eyes. "I'm not entirely sure, but this happening one way or another."

"I can't let you go alone What if—" But the girl held up her hand, stalling his aching muscles as he shot to his feet.

"I won't be alone." She said, breaking her gaze with him to eye the door that was cracking open. But he couldn't look away from her. "Damian and I are flying to Santa Prisca today." Earning a nod from the little demon she finally looked back at him. "Bird will be arriving there within the hour. Jason will follow."

"Jason?!" Came the unison cry, but before Delilah could move her lips, that voice cut through the dimness.

"Now who thought that could be worse?"

Tim had no choice but to root himself to the floor as the man ducked in from the doorway. "Are you sure? I could-"

"I need Dick safe." Delilah said, closing the gap between them. "If someone's taken Dad's place, Dick's a target."

"She inherits everything." Damian snorted, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "And there's her next guardian." He added pointing at Dick. "A girl in a wheelchair isn't much insurance, even if she was Batgirl."

"That's your assumption."

But Delilah said nothing as she turned, back toward the man in the bed. Barbra's knuckles had all but gone white clutching those unresponsive fingers. "They think you're wide open."

"And I want it to stay that way." The words were sure, surprising her. Who was this person that was speaking for her? Whoever she was, maybe she couldn't feel the ache of her knees as they smacked together. "As far as they know, they think I'm simply going to a completion with my father and kid brother in tow. With Dick out of commission, I'll be using a substitute coach from the gym." She said, gesturing at Jason.

"Do I have to wear the stinkin' track suit?"

"Yes you do. So no screwing it up."

"Fuck, Dickhead would eat this up." Jason grunted, crossing his arms in front of him. "What about Wayne Enterprises and all that shit? Why take the time to play Daddy?"

"Because there's something they want more. Something in Santa Prisca." The girl uttered, hand groping around in her pocket for that rough bird shaped stone. "Fox already knows. He'll slow down any paperwork they throw at us. But it's only buying us time." She said, chest collapsing as she turned toward the girl who was prying open the lid of her laptop—anything to keep her from making eye contact with Jason. "Sam, can you and Barbra continue the work on the ant-venom if Damian gives you all the data? As far as we know, the bat-computer is compromised."

"Yes. Yes we can. If we have to we'll use the labs in the GCPD." Barbra whispered, earning a nod from the girl as she untangled her hand from Dick's lifeless fingers. "First everybody cough up your phones and whatever tech you've got. Let's make sure no one else has tapped into them."

No sooner had Tim handed his phone over to the woman, did he head for the door. "Jason. Outside." He grumbled, ignoring how wide Delilah's eyes had gone, or that Barb slung an arm out to stop the girl from proceeding any further.

"What is this? A Robin convention?"

He had to hand it to the kid. Shorter or not, he'd still managed to knock the wind out of him when he slammed into the happy yellow cinder block wall at his back. "Let's make this clear. I don't trust you." Tim snapped, letting his fists fall from Jason's coat. "She…she does. Despite all that you've done. She _trusts_ you." The kid hissed, letting his eyes fall to the floor as he tussled with the thought.

"Jealous?"

"Not even."

_Yeah, right. _

"Perplexed." He said at last. "You've got a second chance. Don't blow it. Don't do that to her."

"Or what? You'll kill me?" The man asked eyeing that white-knuckled fist he was holding back. "You gonna use that or what?"

But the teen simply jerked his thumb to the boy behind him before storming down the hallway, putting a fist into the wall as he cursed and hissed, blowing by the door completely.

"Idiot."

"You got a warning for me too?" Jason grumbled, pressing his arms into his chest as the double doors slammed behind the dark haired teen down the hall. But the boy simply lifted his chin, face ugly and smug.

"Dumb as Drake is, he knows he can't compete with the history." Damian said, giving the man a side long glance as he began fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. "But my sister isn't the only one you have a history with, Todd. You don't need a warning from me. I'd rip out your entrails this very second if my sister didn't find you useful." The boy said, locking his fingers behind his head as he began back for Dick's hospital room. "But you knew that."

"Guess I better be useful." Jason muttered, peeling himself off the wall as his fingers pried a cigarette from the pack. "See you guys in Santa Prisca. Though I wouldn't mind if this guy kicked you out the hatch on the way." Watching the brat pause, Jason popped the unlit smoke in his mouth and headed for the door.

Fuck! What was this? _Slam Jason into a_ _wall_ day? Shrugging into his coat the second he stepped into the pale winter light, Jason cupped his lighter as he lit his cigarette. Damn, he hadn't needed a smoke in a while. _More likely to die by ninjas than lung cancer now. _He thought bitterly. Shit, he'd be lucky if Bird didn't shoot him in the back.

* * *

"I know who you are, you little fucker!_" _ It'd been the first time that morning Jason found himself slung into the wall. Pipsqueak's taxi was barely out of sight, and Bird had him pinned, Jesus, couldn't the guy wait until his food was done digesting at least_? "_The first time we met, you put a gun to my head."Bird hissed. _"_Just what is the Red Hood doing with my niece?!_" _Bird might be old, but the guy still packed a wallop. But let's be honest. Jason wasn't sure if it was the name of his alter ego sliding out of his mouth or the fist to his gut that made him double over.

"Underestimated you a little didn't I?"_ Fuck, I gotta stop doing that. _

"Try a lot, Kid! Now, you better start talking or I'm gonna bash your brains in, I've got no problem going back to Arkham."

"Feeling familial and shit now, aren't ya?" Jason coughed, paying no mind to the man's narrowing gaze as he righted himself along the alley wall just outside of Mama Lu's. "She didn't need you then, and she doesn't need you now. She's got me. She always has." Jason said, letting that lead pipe in Bird's hand tilt his chin back. Any second now he'd feel the barrel of gun in his gut. _He's smart enough to know the Red Hood would be armed to the teeth._ And yet he was still choosing to provoke him? "Crazy Bastard." Jason huffed, watching those thin lips tighten as he slid the slide back on his gun. "You're not the only one who owes Miss P." Jason spat, putting his elbow into the man's face as he slid the gun back into his pocket.

The man was rubbing his offended cheek, spitting the blood out of his mouth when Jason crouched down in front of him. "But you are protecting her."

"What about it? How the fuck did you know my sister?"

"Let's just say she was good to a kid who didn't deserve it." Jason whispered, looking more at the mud at his boots than the man who was using the wall to get himself to his feet. "The old man—you don't want him to know about Del. Why is that? Did Paige know? That her father's still alive and well, chomping on cigars and playing cards—"

"Look, there's a lot of shit you don't know." Bird growled, still probing at his jaw. "You little asshole, I think you knocked one of my teeth loose." He grumbled, spitting more blood between their feet. "She wanted it that way. Maybe she finally realized her hero was a gambling, drinking, two-bit con artist who married Bailey Devereux just for her money. The second he all but bled that woman dry he was gone." Bird said shaking his head. "He doesn't need to know his granddaughter is Gotham royalty. And she doesn't need to know about him. So if you're looking out for Del the way you say you are—you'll leave things well enough alone."

"Delilah."

"Excuse me?"

"You don't know her well enough to call her Del." Jason said evenly, not sure if that was a smirk or a wince he saw crossing Bird's face.

Fingers ripping the jarred tooth from his mouth, Bird, cursed and spat, throwing it into the mud. "Huh." He uttered between spitting. "You got close to me for her, didn't you? "

"Yeah, though I don't mind separating you from your chump change."

With a gurgling sound that could only pass as a laugh, Bird wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "I always thought you were listening to the TV a little too intently."

"Explains why you had such girly shit on. The guys never asked?"

At that Bird went straight as a board. "They don't need to know a fucking thing!"

"You're right."

"This favor…you know what it's for—don't you?"

"Yeah." Jason answered, squinting up at the sun. "She's gonna need as many people in her corner as she can get." He said, slithering closer to the sidewalk, only to pause. "So I guess you need to figure out where your loyalties lie. Bane? Or the only part of your sister you've got left?"

* * *

_Don't go outside. It's not safe. _For a while the warning worked, keeping her pacified within the giant house. But hiding beneath her fears was craving for sunlight. Surely she was forgetting how leaves felt crunching under her feet, or what the wind might whisper.

She could still remember the way her heart thumped when her bandaged fingers reached for the door handle, so sure that Alfred would put a stop to her or worse…Bruce might see her. It didn't matter, she half expected the thing to be locked. Alfred was a stickler for locking the doors. But not today. The handle gave, filling her with a terrible delight when the wind hissed through the crack. _Bruce is gonna be mad. _But she couldn't stop the need for more. Soon her sore feet were standing on the sun soaked patio, leaving the little thing to gulp at the air that smelled of nothing more than damp earth.

What was so bad out here? What was so dangerous about the bright pink rose buds, or the statues that begged her inspection? Sure, Alfred might panic if he saw all the grass and chlorophyll stains sticking to her bandages, but he'd know how charming a birdsong could be wouldn't he? Or how a tiny frog might tempt her away from the door?

Finally, something was familiar to her in this strange empty place. The chilly wind that made the trees dance, the feel heat of the sun on her shoulders, the smell of grass and her knee damp jeans—finally something she knew! She even knew how to catch the little amphibian! Oh the delight! The soft squeaking croaks and the feel of something breathing in her cupped hands was enough to summon a laugh from her—a sound she was sure she'd forgotten how to make.

But among the sound of splashing fountains and shivering vines was something else. A rapid kind of clicking—it was enough to lure her from beneath the rose bushes. Someone else was in the garden and it was all Delilah could do but stand there as the man shoved his camera lens between the bars of the fence.

He lowered the heavy looking thing, revealing a practiced grin as he crouched there. "What's your name?" But she just stood there, eyes going dry as she watched the stranger lift the camera once more. Strangers weren't to be trusted. "What happened to you?" He asked suddenly, face twisting with concern as it were the first time he'd noticed the gauze wrapped around her hands and feet.

"I…" _No. You don't know him. _

"What are you doing at Wayne Manor? It's okay, Honey, I won't tell." When her lips refused to budge, the man tried again. "Where's your mommy? Is she inside with Mr. Wayne? Why don't you ask her to come outside?" He probed.

"I…I can't." The words came on their own, it wasn't like she wanted to say anything. "I can't." She whispered again, chest tight and aching. _Mommy isn't coming back. _Lips trembling, the girl tucked her head, as if fighting back the words. She never saw him.

"You! Get the Hell out of here!" At the sound of Jason's voice, Del, smeared the fresh coating of tears on her sleeve, trying not mash the little creature in her hands when someone snatched her up from the lawn, leaving Jason to rip the film out the back of the camera.

"Hey! That's Gotham Noir Property!"

"Bill me! Now get lost!"

The house was hot, suffocating. The second Bruce set the girl to her feet, she could feel nothing but water leaking out of her ruined dressings. "What the hell were you doing out there?! What did I tell you?!" He roared.

"I just—I just wanted to play!"

"Well, you can't! Not—"

"Man, Bruce, think about that for a second. How fucked up is that?"

She wasn't sure what shocked her more. The fact that Jason had cursed or the fact that he was on her side. "Be quiet!"

"_Gee, thanks for grabbing the film, Jason. Thanks for keeping Gotham Noir from making me front page news._ Well, you're welcome you big ass jerk." No sooner had Bruce shot up from his feet did the boy come forward. "It's wrong to keep her in here like this and you know it. It's sick! What are you going to do? Lock her indoors forever? Dude! It's been three months!"

"Good Heavens what is all the fuss in here?"

At the sight of Alfred's lanky form, Jason put his hands to his hips. "You know I'm right. Just can't stand it, can you? Paige wouldn't—"

"That's _enough_ Master Jason."

"Whatever. I'm out."

The silence was so heavy it was hard to breathe. For a moment, all she could concentrate on was the sound of Jason's shoes storming up the stairs. "You know he's..." With his master's scowl on his back, Alfred shook his head and turned his attention girl. "What a mess you are, Madam!"

"What do you want me to do?" Bruce groaned, watching the old butler scoop up the disheveled child and set her on the counter. "If she's seen-"

"What do you have there?" Alfred pried, peeking into her fingers as she revealed her little secret to him.

"You're not even listening."

"The veins in your neck get all big when you're mad." It took the man a moment to close his mouth. Face red, Bruce blew his breath to the ceiling and shook his head. "There will be more like that man...won't there? The ones who like to take pictures of you?" She whispered as he sank into the stool beside her. He seemed way too big for it.

"Yes, there will." He uttered, tipping her cupped palms toward him. "That thing's going to give you warts."

"Only if I don't wash my hands." The girl said, but just a cheerful and bright as her face had been, she frowned. "He can't stay in here with me anyway."

"And why is that, Miss? I had a pet frog as a boy."

"That wouldn't be fair. He belongs outside. He might get sad too." She lamented. "They can see me through the fence."

"A shame we can't just replace the fence so no one could see through it." Alfred sighed, pausing long enough to give Bruce an arch of his brow before he went back to unraveling her bandages.

"Yeah…" Bruce grumbled sliding to his chair, pausing when the child held her hands out to him. "What? You want me to put Kermit outside?" With a nod from the girl, the man huffed, grimacing as she let the fragile thing roll into his hand. "If this thing pees on me…"

"Oh poppycock, Master Bruce, I remember plenty of times when you came home with frogs and worms and such in your pockets."

"Only because Tommy and Paige's pockets weren't deep enough." Bruce went on, giving a sad kind of smirk as he opened the door and crouched down, letting the little frog hop to freedom without incident.

"I like worms too."

"Not to eat I hope." Alfred teased, letting the girl's bare feet hang in the air as he moved to grab a fresh roll of gauze, chucking at the girl's scrunched face.

"Ewww…no. Me and Mommy go fishing sometimes. Fish gotta' eat." But no sooner had the words left her was Del silent. Her swinging feet still. "Used to…" She whispered, pulling Bruce from the garden door. "I mean…we used to."

"Master Bruce likes to fish." Alfred said gently as he took up his spot once more. "Isn't that right, Sir?"

"I do. Not that I'm good at it." The man said, eyes cutting to the old man before he took a deep swallowing breath and set his gaze on the child who was sitting on his kitchen counter. "If I have a new fence put up, would you like that? To go fishing—I mean."

He seemed relieved when she nodded, but it was also enough to bring him back toward the counter. "But you have to promise me that you won't go outside until the new fence is up. Can you do that? I know you want to go outside…but can you wait just a little bit longer?"

"I can do that." With her answer, the old man lifted her off the counter.

"Alright, Madam, go wash up…unless you _want_ warts."

She'd barely scurried from the kitchen when they spoke again, their words chasing her up the stairs.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"A new fence for the entire property—that'll cost a pretty penny."

"Good thing you have quite a few pennies then." Alfred scoffed. "Master Jason is right, you know. What are you going to do? You can't shut her in this house forever. That's unhealthy for a child."

"I know, Alfred. But in here…I know she's safe."

* * *

"I can't believe you let me fall asleep." Delilah hissed, ducking in from the oppressive heat for the hotel lobby, well aware the creature with her father's face was in a shadow's reach. But before the boy beside her could untangle his sneer, the man at her back spoke.

"I told him to let you be." He offered, peeling his sunglasses from his face. The smile could melt every woman in this lobby into a puddle. Never mind how authoritative and clean the Italian suit made him. Sure the hair was black and eyes were blue—but something about that genuine cheeky grin made the girl's stomach roll. "Not that it helped those raccoon eyes of yours."

"Gee, thanks Dad." Del groaned, mashing her teeth into her cheek as she marched for the counter. "Reservations for—"

"Wayne. Of course, Miss."

"Teenagers. So, moody." He sighed, leaning into the counter, warming the poor clerk's cheeks to a bright shade of pink with that million dollar smile. Delilah couldn't fake the eye roll when his hands lingered just a second too long over hers.

Not able to stomach it, the teen snatched the keycards from him. "You don't even know the half of it." She grumbled, flicking one in his direction. The man frowned.

"You're not going to be this fun the entire time are you?" He asked, turning the card over in his hands. "You're not on the same floor?"

"Nope. I'm on the same floor as the rest of the team." Huh. He seemed to like that. "Tonight's the meet and greet, but we can skip that." She said, her blown breath forcing the loose hairs to skirt around her face. Halfway to the elevator she realized he wasn't following. "Dad?"

"You kids go ahead. Catch up later?"

_Where are you going? _But the girl nodded, dragging her bag and brother into the elevator. "Follow him. I want to know where he goes, and who he talks to." Given nothing but a glower, Del uncurled her fingers from Damian's arm, letting the back of her head lull against the wall as the elevator lifted. "Can't believe you let me-"

"_Tch_, like I needed you. I could've had him choking on chess pieces if I desired."

"True. He give anything away?" The teen asked, giving the boy a glance as he leaned against the wall himself, tilting his blank eyes up to the ceiling.

"You've played chess with Father I assume?" He asked suddenly, tilting his head at her, ignoring her furrowing brow. "What would you say his style is like?"

"Aggressive." She uttered, watching Damian purse his lips. If his mind went any faster, smoke would start coming out of the kid's ears. "Plays like you fight." With a snapping of his head, Del shook hers. "You follow that thing, and I'll find Jason. He's gotta be here by now. He should know where Bird is and then…"

"Bane."

"Yeah."

"Don't tell me you're scared." Damian spat, crossing his arms in front of him as the elevator slowed. "How much damage could a Lucha Libre knock off do?"

"A lot." The girl said, staring into the empty hall as the doors pulled open. The boy on the other hand only snatched at his bag.

"He's never met me."

"That's probably a good thing." Del called after him, sinking back into the elevator as the boy waved her off like a fly. "Lucha Libre Knockoff…I wish."

The man was one of her father's more cunning adversaries, evenly matched for brains and enough brawn to break the Bat. Never mind that he knew her father's identity. There was a lot of power in Bane's hands. _And he could say no. Then what? _

Stomach churning, Delilah, peeled herself off the elevator, thankful the hall was empty of any familiar faces. _He could crush that damn stone to powder and tell you to get lost. You know that, right? _Bird's warning wasn't helpful, but it was honest. Not even he knew what to expect.

* * *

It was the slam of the door that pried him off the patio. "Yo." But the girl didn't even acknowledge him as she dumped her bags by the door and darted for the bathroom. She didn't even have time to close the door before she crashed to her knees right there in front of the toilet. "Nice to see you too." He muttered into his glass, tipping it back as the girl threw her guts up. "Thanks for warning me." He said, reaching for the bathroom light. "First, you didn't tell me that they make sure to remove the alcohol from the rooms. Second, those little boobless wonders are nosy as fuck." He grumbled, shaking his head at the thing that was hanging over the toilet bowl.

Throwing a washcloth into the sink, Jason yanked on the faucet. Without missing a beat he let the wet rag settle on her head, swiped his glass off the bathroom counter and waltzed right back out, counting her dry heaves as he settled back into the chair on the patio. Hell, at least the view was decent. Of course the last time he saw an ocean is was more green than blue.

"_What the hell were you thinking?!" _

"_I was thinking that you were an asshole for leaving him there!" _It wasn't like Paige had never yelled at Bruce before…she'd just never yelled at the man about him._ "What?! What did you want me to do?! He called me for help, B. What was I supposed to do? Just dismiss him?"_

"_With all the trouble he caused?! Yes! I sent him to that school for a reason! He played you! He called me too—"_

"_And you just assumed he was lying—" _

"_When he didn't get what he wanted, he turned right around and called you! " _

"_And I'm glad he did! Bruce, he's got the bruises to prove it! _Silence. For a moment Jason could hear nothing but the rhythmic panting of the dog that was sitting beside him, tongue lolling, ears back as if he was straining to listen too.

"_You've done a lot for him. No one can dispute that—" _

"_I thought—I thought making him a Robin would help him." _

"_Maybe it's not Batman's help that he needs." _Damn, he could still remember how his chest felt when all the air went whooshing out of him. How his lungs were aching to inflate._ "I think the Bat needs him…and the boy? He needs Bruce. Not Bruce the billionaire either. You know what I mean, stop making that face at me." _

At that moment Jason could almost picture that scowl on Bruce's face, sullen…disbelieving…holier than thou, how dare you speak to me thusly face. He could still hear the crack of Paige's hands as they slapped to her sides. She always did that when she was at her wit's end. He half wondered if she'd made fists already to keep herself from strangling him. Or if she was clenching her teeth to keep from cursing.

In the inaudible grumble of Bruce's response, Jason flopped back on the sand, unsure if it was Miss P's sigh he heard or just the sea. If it were Alfred, the jerk would've threatened to fire him and storm off by now. The idea made the kid grin. Yeah, just let him try to fire Paige. She'd probably tell him to shove the job up his ass. He couldn't control her like he controlled his butler.

But as he lay there, squinting up at the cotton ball clouds, he could only hear that voice, soft and serious.

"_He's a child. Not a toy solider."_

* * *

"I see you found something to drink anyway."

At the unmistakable sound of a voice in mid-brushing, Jason lifted the half empty bottle, trying to ignore the narrowed eyed reflection. "I see you're done puking your brains out." He said, half aware the girl was ducking back in the room to rinse. "You're supposed to do that _after_ you drink in excess."

"You shouldn't be drinking at all." Del protested, not able to stop the slithering breath as she put her bare feet on the patio at last. Even as she closed her eyes to the heat of the dying sun, all she could feel was the weight of his stare. Only the sound of liquid splashing into a glass could pry her heavy eyes open.

"You look like dog shit." Jason said, pushing the glass toward her. "When's the last time you slept?" He asked, lifting the bottle to his lips.

"Bird?"

"He'll be in contact. He'll take us to Bane himself tomorrow."

"Us?" The girl chirped, shaking her head at the glass. "Since when—"

"Since always, Pipsqueak. You honestly think I'd let you meet with Bane alone? Piss on that. What kind of solider would I be? Huh?" But Delilah said nothing as he lifted the bottle once more. It was strange to watch her tip toe across the balcony…like she was tip toing around a landmine. But no sooner had her body sank into the empty chair beside him did everything in her seem to loosen. "Any clue on who this bastard is?"

"No…Damian's tailing him now."

"And you trust that little shit?"

"More than I trust you." She quipped earning a toasting tilt of the bottle.

"Would it be so bad if you never found him? Just dump this imposter's ass in a ravine with some concrete shoes—you'd be free. Gotham would be at your beck and call. Fuck. You could put it into submission if you wanted."

"I'd be free." The girl agreed leaning back but then she was giving him that glance. "As free as you?" She asked, tapping on the bottle. "Yes it would. We're talking about my dad, Jase." Del huffed, cheeks looking a bit pink or was that the fading light? "Put Gotham into submission. Hah. Yeah, right."

"You could do it." Jason said, taking a swig. "You've got that itch to do the shit he's afraid of. I can see it." He murmured, cutting her off when those lips fell open to argue. "Don't give me that monster talk either. You've never pushed yourself that far because he told you not to. You gave yourself his limits. You mold yourself to be like him, and you're not like him at all…you're like…"

"Like who?" Del snapped, ripping the bottle from him, splashing rum between them. "My mom? You were going to say my mom, weren't you? Weren't you?!"

"Damn. Numbing agent yes. But it does not help me keep my mouth shut." Jason grunted, snatching the bottle from her. "Aw, look what you did." He mumbled glancing at the dark puddles. "Yeah, so what if I was?" He hissed, looking away when she sat up, dark eyes wide and unblinking.

"Numbing…agent? Jason…those things I said to Bird. I…I wasn't directing that at you. I wasn't. First time I ever saw him he was…" But then the girl stopped and shook her head. "You spent a lot of time with her didn't you?"

But he just sat there staring out to sea. "I hated you. I hated that you had come along. I mean…I knew that wasn't any of your choosing. It wasn't your fault. But you were the reason. She was the closest thing I had to a real mom…" He whispered, the rum in the bottle slashing as he tilted it toward his lips, breathing in the warm bite with his next breath. "By six I knew just how much heroin my mom put in her needles. I used to find her passed out on floor all the time. Up and killed herself with the drugs. Can't say I was surprised. I mean…why would she want to stick around? I wasn't biologically hers." He shook his head.

"Then there was my biological mom—yeah. Sold me out to the clown. We both know how that ended. And then there was Talia. She was motherly if you can belie it. Now she wants to fucking kill me. Not really surprised there. She's a lunatic. I mean look how screwed up that kid brother of yours is." At that he shrugged. "Miss P was the closest chance I had. No matter what I threw at her she just wouldn't give up on me. Hell, she was the one who drove hundreds of miles to rescue me from that damn boys school. Turned out to be Ma Gun's school of thieves. She was the first one to believe me."

No matter how she tried to go back to those days, those gray snowy afternoons filled with black attire and condolences, Del couldn't picture it. She could still remember the way her feet ached, the way the snow caught in her hair. How the rose for her mother's casket felt in her fingers. She could remember all the people who touched her head or kissed her on the cheek. They whispered their sympathies. But never…no one ever… reached out to the boy.

"No one ever told you they were sorry for your loss…did they?" She whispered, aware the weight of her words had him staring down at the glass in his hands. "You lost her too."

"Point's a little moot by now don't you think?" He grumbled, rising from his seat. "It was my—" Before he could utter the words, the bottle was yanked from his fingers.

"Piss on that." She hissed, ignoring the rise of his brow when she put the bottle to her lips, forcing down a hearty swallow. When the teen coughed and gagged, there was a chuckle filling the darkness. "Oh, that's so—_fuck_."

"That can't be the first time you've ever touched hard liquor." But her head was nodding, her face pinching as if she were fighting to keep it down. "Pansy."

"You know what sucks? Everyone seems to know her." Del uttered, letting him take the bottle from her. "Everyone but me. Jason Todd knows my mother better than I do."

"Who would've thunk it." He murmured, holding the bottle out to her when he'd had his swig. "Guess you just weren't special enough."

"I shouldn't be drinking this…at all."

"Eh, it only affects your judgment and reaction time." He teased, lips breaking into a smile when she winced at her second sip. "In your case it'll make you sleep. Something you'll need to do or you'll scare the hell out of the judges tomorrow. So other than wearing that ugly ass uniform what the hell am I supposed to do?" He asked, pausing long enough to take a swallow of rum.

"Other than standing there and looking pretty?" She asked, taking the bottle from him. Hands hesitating, she held to her lips, forcing back the bitter taste she wiped her mouth. _Dad would be disappointed…_"Dragging spring boards in place and catching me if I fall. But I think your time would be better spent looking for any unusual activity from the stands."

By the fourth sip, the rum was going down smoother, though Jason seemed to be keeping the bottle longer and longer, until finally he wasn't pushing it toward her at all. "I think you've had enough." He said at last, shaking his head at her as she all but pooled in her chair, tempted by sleep but tickled to death by the haze.

"Now, see you started this mess." She chided willing herself up on her unsteady limbs to make a grab for the bottle, instead she found herself pressed into a solid chest as he held the bottle over the balcony railing. "Jason."

"Nope. You're cut off. A little food and you'll pass smooth out. You're a bit of a light weight, Delilah Wayne. I wouldn't go telling people that if I were you. Wouldn't take much for ol' Timmy boy to cop a feel."

Delilah snorted, fingers cupping her mouth as if that'd cover the noise. "He wouldn't do that." She said primly, hands sinking to her hips. "He's good to me. "

"Then why aren't you dating him, riddle me that?"

"Oh, you did not—"

"Would you rather I use 'Holy' puns?" He asked, earning him a smiling shake of the head. "You don't want to date him, do you?" The smile was gone.

"I didn't say that." She shot back. "I like him." But even as the words whispered out, she found herself backed into the wall—trapped. "I feel things when I with him. Happy, crazy, stupid—things."

"Makes your heart race does he?"

Blinking up at him, all Del could see was the gloss of his eyes in that shadowed face. Even without the sun the air was thick and sticky and suddenly hard to breathe. "Yeah…as stupid as that sounds."

"Then what is this?" He asked, pressing her own palm into her chest. "Your heart's pounding." No sooner had his thick fingers slid from her wrist, did his hands make a reach for her, but before his palms could cup her face, she slammed into him, knocking him into the railing. "Did I hit a nerve—"

"Shut up, Jason. Just shut up." She whispered, swallowing her own words as she rose on the tips of her toes to reach his mouth. Heart racing, head swimming, she could all but revel in the feel of him melting around her. Only the feel of his hands sliding around her hips could make her gasp for air. "I _did not_ drink enough for you to cop _anything_." She growled, slapping his hands away until they cupped her face.

"Are you going tell me that I don't make you feel anything?" But no sooner had the whisper touched her cheek, and his lips turned loose of her lip, did Delilah push herself away, untangling herself in a hurry. One step forward, and she was holding out a hand to stop him.

Hand covering her mouth, she shrank back against the wall. It was way too late to take back the memory of her mouth on his, or the taste lip-gloss and rum. "I-I…" The hand slapped down to her side. "You do." She squeaked. "It's—it's thrilling. It-it makes it hard for me to breathe…but mostly Jase…it scares me. It doesn't feel right…You kiss me and I-I feel—I like it and I shouldn't-"

"You just kissed me, so excuse you." But then he sighed, easing against the banister. "Why? Why doesn't it—what is it about me that just doesn't work for you?"

"What is it about _me_ that makes you want to kiss _me_?" She cried, fingers curling into the knees of her capris. "I'm sixteen…I'm only sixteen. Doesn't that bother you?"

"I…well…"

"I don't feel like I'm ready for someone so intense. Jase…I'm not ready. But I want –it's just-it's too overwhelming. Does…does that make sense at all? I-I'm sorry I just cut you off I—" The words stuck there in her throat when he moved, taking up the small space between them in his impossibly long strides.

"Relax, Baby Bat." He murmured, frowning as she all but went stiff in his hands. The spell was broken. Pressing his lips to her hair, he slid from her and reached for the door. "Don't take me seriously. It's just the liquor talking anyway." With that he opened the door. "Some grub ought'ta shut it up."

* * *

_Food_. It was the last thing Damian could think about at time like this. However, being crammed beneath the service cart didn't exactly help settle the pangs—oh well it would serve its purpose. It got him in the room. The bigger question was, just what was Ubu doing here? _The league of Shadows has a hand in this._ The thought only made the boy grimace as the room brimmed with bubbly laughter. The lug always did have his vices. It made him soft. Complacent.

Closing his eyes, the boy waited for the cart to still, half listening to the mindless prattle and the sound of the serviceman's shoes on the carpet. Only when he heard the door click closed did Damian bolt from the cart, ignoring the little screams as he ripped his blade free. "UBU!"

"You!" The man had barely shot up from his chair when the child leapt up onto the table. Only when he lifted it, forcing the brat to jump for it, did his guests scurry from the room.

"What are you doing here?! What are you up to?!" The kid snarled, gritting his teeth as the behemoth caught the blade in his hands. The beat only chuckled, making his eyes squint as he grinned.

"You honestly think I'd tell you?"

"Willingly? _Please_." Ripping the sword free, Damian paid no mind to the blood that was dripping to the floor. Instead he could only leap back as the man came in swinging, forcing him to land on his haunches on the bar. "Where's the fun in that?"

* * *

"I told you you'd pass out." Jason murmured, letting his towel settle around his neck as he surveyed the creature that was curled up on the sofa. Shoving away the end table and the unfinished plate of food, he worked his hands beneath her. "Damn, you're heavier than you look." He grumbled, feeling his lungs catch as her head tilted into him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

Staggering toward the bed, he let her spill to the mattress half listening to her seep induced mumbling. "Tim…" Jason sank to his haunches. _He makes me feel things. Crazy, happy, stupid things. _

"Happy things, huh?" He whispered, letting his hand settle in her hair. "I could say the same about you. You make me feel crazy, impossible, stupid things . Like I might be okay when I'm around you…that's a kind of happy isn't it?" But with no reply but the soft ticklish feel of her exhales, he pulled himself to his feet, certain that his hand pulling from her hair might wake her…if the sliding of the balcony door didn't do it.

"We've got a problem."

He could've cursed at the sound of the kid's voice, but instead Jason only twisted about, watching the boy peek at the untouched food. "Great. She'll be useless." He said with a hiss, popping a cherry tomato into his gob, before he finally crumbled and fetched a fork. "They're in on this, Todd." Damian muttered, but when Jason only sank into a chair without reply, the boy lifted his head, stabbing fork still. "But you knew that. Didn't you?"

"Had a feeling." He uttered, groaning as his phone danced on the table behind him. _Bird_.

"Yo. What'cha got?"

"_This meet—this was her idea wasn't it?" _

Unsure of what to make of the man's question, the pair only stared at each other and back down at the phone. "Yeah."

"_Yeah? Is there something else I need to know?" _

"Not that I-" But no sooner had the words started to bubble out of him, did Damian rise to his feet, reaching into the pocket of his hoodie.

"_Then why the fuck is Bruce Wayne contacting me about Bane's favor_?!"

Without missing a beat, Damian tossed a handful of photos on the table. In them was someone with Bruce's face talking with Bird.

"_Doesn't he know that his daughter already has it?!" _

"No." Jason uttered, wiping at his mouth. "He doesn't."

"_I wouldn't be so sure about that."_

* * *

_He promised me…_

Watching her name drop on the scoreboard, Delilah frowned. "I didn't practice my beam routine like I should've…" She uttered, watching Jason's reaching hand drop to his side. Staring up into the crowd, Del bit into her lip as she spotted that bare section in the stands. _You said you'd come. You promised me…_

"He won't be coming." Jason told her, rubbing the back of his neck when she hastily turned away. "It's not him."

"I…I know that." She whispered, certain her voice would get swallowed by the sound of applause. "I know…that and I still…" Hearing her name humming overhead, the teen sniffed. "Just grab the springboard, okay?"

For the sake of argument, Jason just shrugged, paying no mind to the heat of the lights on his back as he pulled the springboard in place. No sooner had he stepped back, the girl was gunning for it. And try as he might, he couldn't stop the pull of his lips as he squinted up at her. _So the bird can fly after all. _But as he watched the teen twist and flip, rattling the bars with her connections, all Jason could see was that glassy eyed look plastered on her face. _C'mon kid, get it together. He's not coming! _

She made a reach for the high bar—pulling a gasp from the arena when her fingers came up short. The little blackbird was falling.

_But what if I do fall?_

Without enough time to react, Del braced herself for impact, waiting for the earth to beat the wind out of her lungs while everyone watched. She didn't expect to feel muscle and bone cushioning part of the blow as she tumbled end over end. It was all blurring together, the mats the flashes of bulbs off in the distance, the flesh of someone's arms as they attempted to right her spinning world.

_So what. All that matters is that you get up and finish your routine. Score or no score. Right?_

"Del, you alright? Del?" _ Jason_.

"Right." Joints sore and jumbled, Delilah forced herself up, ignoring the throb that ran down her wrist. "I'm good. I'm good. I want another shot at it." She said with a hiss, aware that there was an official loitering closer to the setup.

"You won't get a score."

"I know." She uttered, taking Jason's hand as he ripped her off the floor the rest of the way. "I just want to finish." With the man's nod, the girl stepped back into position, lifting her arms to the air. _I hope you're doing this for Delilah and no one else. _ "I am now, Dickybird. I am now." With a running leap onto the spring board, she flew for the bars, empty seats forgotten.

* * *

"He's wanted to go to Bludhaven before."

The food the girl was shoving down her gullet dropped like stones in her gut. "Why? Why didn't he?" She asked, muscles jolting as Jason's fork slid down to his plate with a clank. "I thought he was—"

"Happy?" With the word Jason sank back, all but melting into the chair across from her. "Yeah right." He hissed. "We've always been trying to crawl out from under someone else's shadow." He uttered, glancing at the girl who'd gone silent. "It's the one thing we have in common." He added. "C'mon, Pipsqueak. You know the answer. He stayed for you."

The fork in those long fingers slid down to her plate. "You might be a daughter of that Bat." He said, reaching for the crushed pack of cigarettes. "But you were practically raised by a Robin. Bruce had no business being a parent—he never wanted to be a parent but you came along anyway." He grumbled, popping an unlit cigarette between his lips.

"Sure that's not your own opinion?" Without hesitation, she snatched the lighter from him. "He tries."

"Maybe it is. Maybe you morphed him. Maybe an obnoxious little girl was able to do something that Dickhead and I never could…" He said, leaning forward to rip the lighter from her.

"Jealous?" Without warning, the girl reached over and pulled the unlit cigarette from his mouth, earning nothing but a grimace as she crushed the thing between her fingers.

"Of you? Hell no. You don't get it do you?" He asked, making a reach for his pack when the girl smacked her hand down on it first. "Del…who are you going to use the favor on? Dick? Or your dad? You can't save them both."

* * *

_I was too hard on her…_ Jason sank down on the bench, unsure if the girl could feel the heat of the stadium lights on her back as she dipped her feet into the chalk. Who would she choose? The father who had to learn to love her? Or the big brother who'd made the sacrifices her father didn't know how to make?

"She's sucking more than normal." At the sound of the voice, Jason tilted back his head as a boy in a red hoodie scaled over the railing and dropped down on the bench beside him.

"Aren't you supposed to be tailing the lookalike?"

"He's…_indisposed_." The boy mumbled, lifting his hood as the girl in the black and blue leotard glanced over her shoulder. For the briefest of seconds she was still as stone. "You're not a very good coach." He noted, watching the girl bend at the starting line when she finally put her focus on the task at hand.

"Yeah, well, encouragement isn't my strong suit." Jason sighed, leaning forward as the stadium filled with the sound of her feet pounding on the mat. "You're not too bad at it." He added, not able to take his eyes off her as she hit the springboard.

"How do you figure?"

"You showed up." He said, aware he wasn't hearing a sound coming from the boy anymore; his eyes were locked on the body that was summersaulting in the air. Funny watching her reverse direction it was almost familiar. _That's…._

With the sound of her feet smacking to the floor, came the unsteady whoosh of breath as the girl lifted her arms to the air. Still and perfect. It was the only event she'd walk away from with a first place medal, but perhaps it would simply act as a marker for when the girl burst on scene. Despite the score she received for her floor event, she'd still managed to make the audience clap along. God, couldn't she hear the way they screamed when she landed her aerial skills?

_And you think you can't tame Gotham?_

"Third place on floor?" Damian grumbled, when a sweaty panting Delilah dropped down beside them. "Loser."

She grinned, until the boy reached for her arm, wringing a yelp out of her when he twisted it. "Ow, you jerk—"

"It's broken. Are you so stupid that you didn't notice?"

"How long? How long have you been-"

"Since the uneven bars?" Del whispered, ignoring the incredulous twist of Jason's face.

"You _are_ an idiot." The man groaned, aware that Damian was rising to his feet.

"I've got a surprise for you, Loser. C'mon."

* * *

Shivering in her leotard, Del could only stand there in the doorway of her brother's hotel room. "Are you sure you can keep _him_ busy until we're done?" At the sound of her crackly voice, the boy only sneered, pausing at the closet as Jason shut the door behind him.

"Are you really wasting my time with such stupid questions?" But instead of waiting for an answer, Damian yanked the door open, revealing a bloody lump of a man crammed in the tiny closet. Jason grinned.

"Ubu. Long time no see." He teased, easing down to his haunches as the man growled and groaned beneath his gags. "I'd say you look good but uh…"

"It's an improvement." Damian said dryly, tilting his head toward his sister who was all too quiet. "You know what I've done, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Don't waste it."

* * *

Heart pounding, chest tight, Del could only count her breaths as they filled the bag around her head. "Sorry I had to do it this way." But the apology at her back did nothing to still the hammering in her chest. She couldn't see the light but oh she could feel it when he opened the trunk—freedom—warm and sticky and laced with salt. _Ten minutes from the arena…maybe? One left turn and a couple of rights. No train tracks but some serious dips and a couple of rough roads. _

"I couldn't be seen and he didn't want me to know where…I get it." She uttered, staggering forward as he drug her and Jason up a set of stairs and into a building. A building that had slick floors and smelled of leather and ink.

"Now behave yourself." Bird whispered, yanking the bag from her head, letting the teen scan around the large library with it's monsterous fireplace and tall windows. She'd look anywhere but at the men with guns who were leaning against the walls. _AK-47's. _Only the sound of a door coming open from beneath a set of winding stairs drug her eyes away.

There standing in the doorway was a mountain of a man, his small dark eyes on her like the sight of her was making him clench his jaw. "This—this is your niece? This girl is your blood?"

"Yes."

With a tilt of his head, Delilah could see the white lined scars on his face, the short cropped hair trailing down his skull as his eyes flicked from Bird to her and back again. "She doesn't look like you at all."

"Thank God for that. She's my sister's child."

"The one you gave my favor to?"

"The one and only…" Bird whispered voice tight. It was enough to make Delilah's finger's itch. _He's nervous. _

"Fine then. Come with me, Baby Bird." But as the girl stepped forward with Jason and her uncle in tow Bane held up one of his giant hands. "Just the girl."

"I can't let her-" But before Bane's eyes could narrow or Bird could finish his argument, Delilah willed her jellied limbs forward.

"I'll be fine." She muttered, feeling her breath catch as she stepped closer and closer to the man until she was following him into the small office. With a slam of the door, Delilah's spine shook.

"Or should I call you a bat?" He asked. "I know who you are, Delilah Wayne." He said, rounding the desk. There wasn't any time to look around the piles of books. "If I thought for one moment you would end up with…" But Bane just shook his head. "Sit."

"No, I'm fine thank-"

"Sit."

She sat, watching the man as he eased down behind the tiny desk. For a moment he said nothing. He simply regarded her, filling the room with the sound of his fingers tapping on the desk. "You're an avid reader, yes?"

"I am…" She uttered, taking a briefest glance around the room. "So are you it seems." She said forcing herself to swallow.

"Books are a gateway. They are more deadly than weapons." He said suddenly, lifting a small book from the stack. "What is it you want of me, Delilah Wayne?"

"I need your help. I-I don't really know where to begin—"

"Try the beginning."

"Okay…" The girl whispered, feeling the weight of his gaze as she forced herself to breathe. "Someone decided to use your venom in a case of product tampering." She said carefully, jolting as the man's fist landed on the table, sending books flying.

"My venom?!"

"Hundreds of people…are clinging to life." The girl uttered, trying not to pay any mind to the bulging veins in the man's face. "My mother was in the process of making an anti-venom before she died."

"And how did she—Bird."

"Probably." Del croaked, ducking under his gaze. _Which choice are you going to make?_

"And where is your father in this madness? Where is the Batman?"

"I don't know." She whispered. "That's a part of my problem. He's been taken and they put some freak with his face in his place. The league of Assassins is making a move. I want to stop them." As the words tumbled out of her mouth, Bane eased back into his chair. "I don't know why they're using your venom—"

"I think I do." He said, tilting his head at her. "Some time ago a man came to me. Same song and dance as always, wanted to get rid of the Bat. What do I care? It's been seventeen years. What do I care for the Batman's dirty city? Perhaps I offended him. How he would align with the League of shadows, I'm uncertain."

"Do you know who he was?"

"Hush. It was the only name he gave. No face either. Just bandages." The man closed his eyes for the briefest of moments. "You wish to find the Batman?"

_Do I save Dad? Or Dick? Dad would choose Dick and all those people. He wouldn't hesitate._

Before she could stop herself, Delilah's mouth fell open. "Yes. Gotham needs my father back." She uttered, Swallowing at the words. "I need him back. I can't do this alone." _But I'm not Dad._

"A difficult thing you ask of me." Bane murmured, watching the girl look down at her hands, face paling. "And how do you suppose we thwart the League of Shadows?"

To that the girl lifted her head. Her face was white as a sheet, and her hands were shaking but the words came out of her easily. "You were Ubu once, weren't you?"

"The girl has a plan."

"Yes. Yes the girl does."

* * *

_I should've chose Dick. I should've asked him to help me with the anti-venom. I should've put everyone else first. _

"You think any harder you'll blow a blood vessel."

Blinking, Del let her eyes focus on the doppelganger's fingers as he turned loose of his chess piece, earning a glare from the boy across the table. _You're playing right into a trap._

"Was the competition that bad?"_ You have my father's face, but you're not him. _"Checkmate."

"Wasn't at the top of my game." She said, sliding from her seat to cross the plane.

"Two out of three."

"No." Del grumbled, snatching Damian's seat as he rose to stretch. "I want a crack at him." She said flopping down. "Let me show you how you beat him."

"So much smack talk."

"I learned from Doc." She mumbled, fingers quickly righting the pieces. "And he always kicked your ass." _But you don't play like Dad…do you? _ He was careful, calculating, not near as aggressive as her father may have been. There was finesse to the man—something that required more patience than even Bruce Wayne could muster. _It's almost like…_

* * *

"Do you know what those are?" At the sound of a voice, the child jolted, letting the stone queen hit the table. For a long moment she only looked up at him, those now familiar eyes so wide and deep. Her head shook, forcing the fine dark hairs to stick to her round cheeks. "Where's Mommy?" He asked, as the child crawled to her knees on the bench to point at the woman who was pacing with the phone glued to her ear.

Cheeks red, hair windswept, her eyes had gone dark like they always did when she was angry. Flustered and pacing with those dirty French words rolling of her tongue the woman still managed to captivate him_. A gorgeous face with big heart and a good name, you couldn't do better than that. And like a fool you let slip right through your fingers!_ Or perhaps she'd captivated his mother most. The Devereux family had social standing, pedigree and above all—the cash to put their money where their mouths were—or most of them did anyway. It seemed like fate that Bailey Devereux and Marla Elliot saw the same doctors and attended the same cancer groups. Fate wouldn't be enough.

"She had to fight a dragon."

"I see." He uttered, seating himself across from the child. "I hear dragons are cranky creatures." That won a grin out of the girl. It was the kind of small toothed smile he imagined might've loosened his mother's grip—grip on her pocket book—grip on his life. But with the weight of those shimmering emerald eyes resting on him, Eliot simply blew out a breath and let his fingers go about setting up the pieces. "So then, would you like to learn how to play chess?"

The child was too young, too squirmy, but she was pleased and that in turn seemed to make her mother relax. Hell it even stopped her mouth long enough to fish a smile out of her. For just that moment he could almost imagine she was looking at him the way she always looked at Bruce.

* * *

The child wasn't so squirmy now. She was careful, deliberate and kind of cocky. "Your mother used to bite her lip all the time when she wasn't sure of something." He murmured, fingers going still as that gaze landed on him. _You're cocky alright. Just like him._

"You don't know all my tells." She said plainly, letting her hand fish for the phone that was buzzing in her pocket. "Damian, take over for me. Don't screw it up. I got him right where I want him." She said peeling herself from her chair. "I've gotta take this."

"Probably your stupid boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend!" Without another word the teen slammed the divider behind her.

"_Gotta hand it to that kid, he is smart." _

"Please feel free to tell him. Maybe it'll inflate his ego so much his head'll explode." The girl said, leaning into the wall as she listened to the murmur of the plane. "What'cha got, Sam?"

"I was doing a little more digging, you know…on Mr. Collins?" When Sam's voice tapered off, Delilah had no choice but to wait for the girl to find her words again. "The removal of his organs wasn't just some hack-'em up kind of job. It was clean—like surgically clean. Whoever killed him had medical training of some kind and a damn steady hand."

_The Joker couldn't make the shot…and if Clay Face was out…_

"Sam…I know who it is."

* * *

"What's this?" He'd gone so still—like he dared himself not to take a breath when her little hands touched the chain that was peeking out from the collar of his shirt. With the cool stethoscope warming against her chest, gave the chain a tug, pulling a jade pendent free from its hiding spot.

"Delilah! Don't be rude. I'm sorry, Tommy she's just overly-"

But at her mother's scolding, the spell was broken, letting the doctor loosen as she turned the circular pendent over in her hands. "Curious." He murmured, pulling out the ear tips. "All men by nature desire knowledge. I don't think she's any different." With a sliver of smile, and an offering of the stethoscope, Del let the jade slip from her fingers. "It's jade. My mother gave it to me." He said simply, tucking the thing back into his shirt as the girl beamed at the sound of her own heartbeat.

"It's green. Just like Mama's dragon ring. It's got green eyes." The child chirped, legs swinging.

"Just like her. I think it sounds good today. What do you think?"

"I think it's good." With her nod of approval, Dr. Elliot rose from his stool, letting the girl fiddle with the instrument a little while longer as he faced the silent body at his back.

"Of course we'll have to monitor it as she grows…" He uttered, running a hand through his coppery hair. "My mistake."

"What?"

"They're a little more brown than green today."

"_Tommy._ Are you always paying that close attention?"

"Would I be a good doctor if I didn't?"

* * *

_Good? Not anymore. _But had he ever been? Was it all a ploy to get to this point? "What's wrong with you now?" Damian asked as the shadow of Wayne Manor began to stretch over the cab. _I want to rip his face off. That's what's wrong._ Without so much as a word, Delilah shoved herself from the car, half expecting the front door to come open and Jax to come rushing. But nothing happened.

Instead she heaved her duffel bag over her shoulder watching the imposter unfold himself from the taxi and stroll toward the door. Letting him lead the way inside, Delilah let her eyes adjust to the dimness of the foyer. "Why's it so dark in here? Alfred?! Jax?!" Nothing. Throwing her bag to the floor, the teen paused at the stairs. "Alright, Asshole. Where's Alfred?"

The man on the stairs paused, twisting about at last. "Excuse me?"

"Or would you rather I called you 'Doc'?" She called, spine shivering as a he put his hands together, filling the shadows with echo of a slow clap.

"_Very good_. I knew they were underestimating you."

"They?"

"Perhaps Clay Face was too sloppy." At the sound of the silken voice, Del's head snapped to the top of the stairs, but a word fell out of Damian's mouth first.

"Mother."

And there crumbled and gagged at her feet…was Alfred.

"I thought you'd be happier to see your mother." She purred, paying no attention to the squirming of a shriveled old man as she stepped over him and began her slow decent down the stairs.

"So what?! What's your part in this Doc?! Take my dad's face and you take the fortune?! Is that it?!"

"His fortune? You're thinking this is just about the money? Oh, no, it's much, much more than that." He said simply easing back down the stairs toward the girl. "Do you know what it's like being compared to him your entire life? He took everything from me—and everyone." He said, lifting the teen's chin. "You could've been mine. Should have been…but P couldn't leave things well enough alone."

_My mother?_

"I was slowly syphoning stocks from Wayne enterprises. That idiot didn't notice. But your mother did. I still don't know how she found my trail…but I knew after that she and I would never have a chance again. So to shut her up I tested some old research she'd showed me back in college."

Delilah's stomach clenched. "The venom—the zesti cola tampering…you—"

"It's kind of poetic really, knowing that her own research was killing her. If she'd just let me be the hero. Maybe things could've been different! But even in her state he was all that she asked for!"

"You-you let my mother die? You paid St. James and Gillespie to attack her—and you refused to render aid?! Are you telling me my mother could've—"

"If I couldn't have her, no one would. Not even his child."

"Del! No!"

But Damian's warning was too late. She wasn't even sure she could hear him over the scream that was tearing out of her when she leapt on the man, knocking him back on the stairs. "YOU SON OF A BITCH! I'LL KILL YOU!"

His fists were hard on her ribs, forcing the teen to grit her teeth as her fingers scratched and clutched around that familiar chain around his neck. "You killed so many people! What?! Were you trying to cover your tracks?!" She cried twisting the necklace until it bit into his neck. "You tried to kill me too." She hissed as he choked, shrugging Damian away as he reached for her. "But guess what?"

The second she bent down and put her lips to his ear, the thrashing beneath her stopped, if only for a second. "I'm not the damsel. I'm the mother fucking dragon."

"Del! Del, stop! You don't want to kill him!"

_Jason? _

Before the girl could even glance behind her, a pair of arms ripped her from Elliot's body, crushing her into their own. "Stop. You don't want to—trust me you don't want to."

"Let go of me! This is his fault! It's all his fault! He doesn't deserve to live! The monster who killed her doesn't deserve to live, remember?!" But as the words burst out of her, Jason's arms seemed to wrap tighter around her, holding her to his chest so she couldn't look at the shadows. She couldn't turn to the sound of quick feet or Elliot's gasps.

_There's more. But how many more? _"Jase…let me go." The plea was useless. He seemed to be melting around her, tight and unbreathing. "Jase? Wh-what are you doing?"

"Jason." At the sound of Talia's voice, his lung's collapsed beneath her.

"I remember." The whisper was warm, hot like the blade he jammed in her side. "I told you not to trust anyone."

"TODD! "

With another kiss of the blade, he shoved her back. She couldn't even remember what the stairs felt like when the rammed into her spine. _Alfred._ Finding his wide dark eyes, the man stopped struggling. It didn't stop Damian from yelling.

"Let go of me you ingsequerates! I'll kill you all! Starting with you Todd! You're a dead man! You betrayed her! You're dead! You hear me?! DEAD!"

"Oh, calm down Damian." His mother sighed, stepping over the girl and pool of blood that was leaking down the stairs. "Sacrifices had to be made."

"Get up, get up you idiot! No one puts you on the ground but me! Fight it! Don't you dare close your eyes! Fight it!" _It's taking four people to hold him back. Damian…_

"Enough with hysterics." _Ra's. _ "Sedate the boy and let's be on our way. There's work to do." The man commanded, paying no mind to Elliot as he staggered to his feet. "Jason—get rid of these bodies. Elliot—don't you have a part to playing?"

"Yes. Yes I do."

"Then get to it. Fox will surely drag is feet if he suspects anything."

She couldn't make him out. The hair, the eyes, the wicked smirk—it was all blurring together. "I asked you once what you would be the next time I saw you. It seems you were nothing but a little girl who plays dress up."

* * *

**A/N- There we go! I know it's been a long wait between chapters but let's be honest I was freaking out over this one. I'm still wondering if there's tiny bits of information that needed to go in here that I've forgotten. Especially where Jason is concerned. Everyone take a breath. There's only a couple chapters left. (+Epilouge) Hopefully I'll have all the loose ends tied up for you by the end.**

**Next Chapter- Lionheart**


	35. Lion Heart

I still remember the very moment we met. How that tiny breathing bundle fit into my arms—fragile as glass and just as solid, just as real. It'd been some years before something so small and delicate could fill this old heart with such a terrible delight. Delight for everything you were—terrible for everything I was not.

It occurred to me then that these precious seconds rightfully belonged to someone else. You would have wrapped Thomas around your tiny finger in a heartbeat. And Martha? No contest. You would've melted the poor woman. Just a look and they would've fallen in love with you instantly.

Don't ask this guilty person how he knows, my dear.

"Though she be but little, she is fierce." I'm sure Bailey would approve, there were few things she loved more than theatre and words. We had that in common—and now there was you. It was for her—them—the grandparents you should have had—that I'd decided that I would keep you as safe as an old lion could muster. After all, of all the secrets I've been privy to, you were my favorite.

* * *

"Shit! Alfred, I think I nicked her."

"Out of the way, Boy."

Tongue tied, Jason had no choice but to step back as Alfred shoved him aside, tossing his bindings to the floor like old rags. Just how long have you had those undone, Old Man? But the thought only fizzled into the darkness when the man reached right into his pocket—as if he there would be a blade there. "I can't tell the difference…" Jason whispered as Alfred sank to his knees next to the lifeless body.

"Really now, Master Jason." The man scoffed, tossing him a sneering face as he ripped up the girl's thick hoodie, revealing the thick corset and the sacs of blood. "It's just corn syrup, laundry soap, water and food coloring." He said, blade glinting in the low light as it ripped through the corset and syrupy red bags.

But as the body beneath him jolted, filling the empty manor with the sound of her gasp, the old butler seemed to sag with relief, netting the sticky girl in his arms as she bolted upright, huffing and wheezing as her lungs struggled to open. "Steady now, my dear. Steady." He murmured, letting a hand drop to a small pocket in his waistcoat to produce an inhaler. "Perhaps it was laced a bit too tight." But just as her shaky fingers might've plucked it from him, the old man's hands clenched, pulling the thing out of her reach. "You need to control it."

"Al, now's not the time!"

Alfred didn't make a move to release the inhaler. "It's the perfect time." He uttered, paying little mind to the girl who was panting –struggling to make herself breathe. "Jason can't help you, Madam. I can't help you." He said coolly as he rose to his feet.

"Alfred…"

The soft croak was useless, the man was already easing down the steps, but just as he might walk away, he whirled around on his heel. "No suit. No oxygen. No inhaler. Pray tell, Delilah Wayne, what will you do?" He spat. "Dear Ol' Dad won't be coming to save you. What will you do?!"

He couldn't, he couldn't just let the pipsqueak sit there and gasp for air like that. What the hell is wrong with you old man?! But as his feet began to drop down the steps aching to reach her, a sound squeaked between her wheezing huffs. "One…"

"Master Dick can't rescue you this time."

"Two…"

"Batgirl is useless. There's no mask for you to hide behind now! "

"Three…"

"What will you do?!"

"Four…"

"Master Damian is out in the open! Are you going to leave him like that?!"

"Five…" With the flat of her hand held out to him, Jason had no choice but to sag against the banister and take in the sound of her ragged breaths.

"You know what need to do."

"Six."

"Don't you?"

"Seven."

"All your life they've been saving you." Alfred hissed, his sharp steps closing the gap between him and the stairs. "Now they can't."

"Eight."

"It's time to save yourself, Delilah." He whispered, shadow lording over her once more.

"Nine."

"So, Girl, what will it be? What will you do?"

"Ten."

With nothing but the slithering hiss of her full lungs, Del held the man's gaze as her fingers curled into the railing. "Get back up." She rasped at last, staggering to pull her weight off the floor. It earned nothing more than a nod.

"Very well, Madam." He murmured, uncurling his fingers from the inhaler. "Shall we move onto the next act?"

"It worked…right?" Letting Alfred pull her arm around his bony shoulders as they rose together on the stairs, the tattered corset and punctured bags of fake blood falling out of her hoodie to her feet. "Damian…we should've told him-"

"No. You needed his reaction to sell the performance. He'll understand." Alfred uttered, paying no mind to the puddle squishing beneath his shoes as he helped the girl down the steps. "Maybe."

With that the old butler looked over his shoulder at the man who was standing motionless, staring into dark stains on the runner. "Best watch your back until then, Master Jason."

"Yeah or the kid might stick a knife in me," Jason grumbled, turning to follow after them. "So Al…how did you know to do all this?"

"Once upon a time, a young butler almost handed a wealthy family his two-week notice so he could answer the siren song of the theatre."

"What stopped you?"

But the man said nothing as he let Delilah slide into an empty kitchen stool. "Alright, why don't we make sure Master Jason didn't get carried away?"

* * *

"Not hungry, Madam?"

You looked so small—a ball of rail thin arms and legs with bent joints. Had it not been for the stark gray shirt that was swallowing you whole, one might mistake you for a ghost. You were so still, so quiet—that when your head looked away from the window—my muscles jolted.

You weren't the first grieving child I'd ever beheld, but watching you simply shake your head and ball yourself tighter into the corner, I was at a loss. Another cold plate of untouched food. You couldn't continue on like this for long.

"You must eat something. You'll make yourself sick." In truth—I think you were already there. God only knows how much weight you lost. And the more I looked at the puffy red skin under your eyes, the more I ached. I expected you to go through a bit of shock—the way a sapling might when uprooted and replanted elsewhere—but this?

I resigned myself to a sigh and turned away to carry off the untouched tray just as the sound of rain began to tap on the windows. I thought nothing of it or the stark flash of light that danced across the room. Not until the boom rumbled after it. I'd never heard such a peculiar sound come out of a child before. In my haste to twist about, the tray spilled to the floor just as you scurried beneath your father's bed. "Madam?" But the word stuck there as the room filled with that thunderous noise, summoning me to the bedside at once.

"It's okay…it'll be okay…"

The choking wet words all but had this old man easing to the floor as if the realization was weighing me down. Master Bruce had his bouts with PTSD. And you—you with your little hands over your ears—were no different. "Madam, why don't you come out of there?" Of course, the way you shook and jolted with every rumble, I knew it was useless. I doubt you even missed me when I left the room or heard me when I returned. But oh, that look on your face when I peeled your hands from your ears. I had to act quickly or else that quivering lip would drop. "Why don't we try this?"

The bulbous headphones made your head look that much smaller, but the whimpering had turned to mere sniffles. I made no move to remove you from your hiding spot. After all, you had spent more time in the master bedroom those last few weeks than your father had during your entire existence. I doubt he minded much at all.

He would've given you anything…even his last clean t-shirt. It was a change. Something I don't think he'd even noticed. And between you and me, I wasn't about to tell him. I didn't want to spook the man.

Somewhere in the middle of cleaning up the porridge, I realized you'd hardly made a peep. I'd imagined you'd fallen asleep right there under the bed. I remember wondering just how I was going to get you out but as I carried my supplies back to the light of the hall, that soft pleading voice stalled me at the door.

"Thank you..."

"You are most welcome, Madam." I doubt you heard me any more than the sound of a woman's laugh echoing downstairs. but I pulled the door to anyway. You didn't need to see her any more than she needed to know about you. Not that that one lasted very long—he was far from ready, but there were appearances to keep I'm afraid.

The second the front door closed behind the blonde woman and her umbrella, Master Bruce all but fell against it shedding the act like a weight. "Too soon perhaps, Master Bruce?" The question only earned me a sharp jerk of the head and sour look. If he thought that worked on me, I had news for him. "You keep this up and one of them will discover the secret under your bed."

"Under my bed? Why—" But as the lightning cracked casting his shadow across the foyer floor, he wiped his hand over his mouth. He had his answer. Instead, he let his eyes fall to the dishes. "Still not eating?"

"Afraid not. Little girls can't live in t-shirts and survive on animal crackers alone, Sir." I said gently, making the pacing man pause at the foot of the stairs.

"Whatever she needs-I don't care."

"Perhaps it would do the child some good to have her own space—to fill it with things she's familiar with." He stopped dead. We both knew what that meant. It meant going to that house. "I'll go. I'll pack her things myself."

"Alfred, I can't ask you to do that."

"Someone has to, Master Bruce. We can't put it off forever." I said, certain the man was following me even if I couldn't hear him. "Where shall I put her things?"

"The East wing."

"Yes, but where-"

"Just give her the whole damn thing!" The man snapped, throwing his hands in the air as if to admit defeat to a foe I couldn't see. "What do I care?!"

To be frank, this place was nothing more than a shrine—too empty and quiet for one man to fill—but too valuable as a reminder to ever let it go. I wonder when he realized that the world beneath the manor was more his home than what was built above it? He hadn't a reason to make it home.

Until now.

"You're going to Mommy's house?"

One simple question and the pair of us were still as stone, gawking at the boney girl who was peeking so carefully around the door frame, hair wild, eyes red and those bulging headphones hanging around her neck.

"Can I go?" You peeped, hobbling from the safety of the shadows. You may have grabbed your father's pant leg to keep your balance, but those big eyes were squarely on me.

"Well, Madam-"

"I'll eat whatever you want me to. Okay? I promise. I'll be good." I don't know if it was the desperation in your voice that had the tile digging into my old knees or if it was the way your gaze dropped to the floor. "I promise. I just wanna go." You could've sucker punched me, it would've been easier. My mouth was going dry at the lack of words. I was still searching for the right thing to say when the man you left standing at your back spoke, surprising us both.

"Del," He said, sliding onto his haunches right there in the threshold. "Mommy isn't going to be there." I know the words weren't easy to say. And the way you recoiled from him…

"I-I know. But it's Mommy's house. It's my house."

"Hey, Boss? You might wanna see this. Er—you're busy, my bad."

I could've strangled that boy.

"Just her bedroom, Alfred. We'll let her decide what to do with the rest when she's ready." Master Bruce uttered as he rose. I could see his hand stretching, like he might reach out to you—but then it just fell limp at his side. Without another word he twisted about and wandered out of sight.

It's not that your father didn't love you. He just seemed to lose those he cherished most.

Fear makes us fools.

* * *

I had my reservations. Just weeks ago there had been blood on these walls and glass on the floor. It didn't matter that the carpet had been ripped up and the walls scrubbed and repainted. I couldn't get the sight out of my head. And I still had to get the boxes out of the car—which meant I had to let go. I had to leave you alone in this place. Alone with your memories.

"I'll just be a moment, Madam. And then we'll grab your things." But you said nothing to me as I set you to your feet and forced myself back into the damp world. The boxes were nearly sodden by the time I worked myself through the door, half worried and anxious to complete the task at hand. But as I made it through the storm door, the sight before me made me colder than the wind at my back.

You were sitting on the floor, Batman hanging in your arm as you reached out to touch the bare spot of carpet. But then you little fingers froze in the air. I can only imagine what you could see, how horrific it must've been to make that little knot in your throat bob. But then that your head jerked up. I don't know how long we stood there staring at one another. But in wordless agreement, you crawled to your feet and I forced myself from the door, letting you lead the way to your room for the very last time.

* * *

I knew your little bedroom better than you might imagine. I'd painted those walls with Bailey some years before. But it's nothing but a memory now…splattered with grays and pinks and riddled with vivacious laughter that still haunts me when I'm alone. Putting your room in neat little boxes wasn't easy for either of us.

You may not have spoken, but I could see your fingers hesitating before you shoved things into a box as fast as you could manage. Reaching into the depths of your closet, I pretended I couldn't see your fingers flitting through the toile of the last Halloween costume. Something that looked like a cross between Batgirl and ballerina—I'm sure you lived in it for weeks. And I'm also sure you knew it was the last thing your mother ever made for you.

"Nearly done." I murmured, hoisting clothes and hangers out from the rack. But in the midst of pulling them free I noticed something tucked in the corner of your closet. A black bag. A bag that was anything but empty. The second I unearthed it, the box at your hands was forgotten. "What's this?"

"It's my go bag." You said it so simply, unaware of the dread it filled me with as I set the thing on the bed. "You know, for spontaneous trips and stuff." Spontaneous trips indeed. I could only loosen my breath as I opened the thing, revealing a set of neatly folded clothes, a bag of medication. "I even have my passport." Ignoring the envelopes of different denominations, I could only force a smile as you proudly showed me your French passport. I don't think you realized you had more than one, Miss Delilah Devereux.

"Let's put them back, we might use them one day. Master Bruce travels a lot you know." But as you slipped the documents back inside, I could only stare at the plain white envelopes peeking out from the soft gray Yale t-shirt. Staring at my name in your mother's hand, I made a mental note to myself. Your mother wasn't the one who went to Yale. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen your father wear that shirt in a long while.

"A-L-F-R-E-D. What does that spell?"

"My name," I whispered, lifting out the envelope while your little hands explored the next item.

"B-E-A-U." You said nothing as I pocketed the envelopes. "You know my Mommy, Alfred?"

"I certainly do. " Knew. Did. I couldn't correct you. I couldn't tell you the truth about your little bag. Instead, I closed it and returned to your clothes, aware that you were slithering for the door. "And just where do you think you're going?" I asked, sealing the last of the boxes as you just stood there. "Bathroom."

"I'm going to take these to the car and we'll be on our way." With a nod you slithered into the dimness. After I returned, sopping and empty handed, I found myself half afraid. Afraid to find a child hovering over the last place she'd seen her mother alive. But the living room was empty. As was the bedroom. And the loo. I could feel the pinprick of worry starting in my shoulders when a crash sent me sprinting for the faint light of the kitchen.

There you were—standing on a chair as you stretched as far as you could into the freezer.

"Just what are you up to?"

At my query you twisted, the frozen bags in your arms spilling to the floor. But you just stood there, blinking. "Mama made 'em."

I could reason that you didn't need them. I could tell you that I'd cook you whatever you'd ask of me if it would get you to eat. But to be able to eat something your mother made—I couldn't compete with that. Finally, there was something I knew you wouldn't refuse. Thank God.

* * *

"All that work and the squirt fell asleep on us?"

"I beg your pardon, Master Dick?" I hadn't the slightest idea what the young man was babbling about. I simply assumed that the smack on the back of the head that Miss Gordon gave him was well earned.

"Don't start whining. Just go get the boxes out of the car, Dummy."

With a shake of my head and your light breathes warming my neck, I began the trek to the East wing, juggling you, the black bag and the doors all at once. Multi-tasking at its finest if I do say so myself.

Stepping into that hall of rainy light, I could see why your father had chosen this for you. It wasn't a part of the house that guests ever stepped foot in. In truth, no one had bothered with it in years. No one would even suspect that there was a child here.

As bitter as the thought was, I also knew it was also the safest solution. It was remote and yet it was the only part of the manor that was connected to the house in a series of secret passages. These halls hadn't heard the echo of feet since Thomas's boyhood.

I'm sure a part of him hated this very place. I'm also certain that's why it'd been left untouched for an entire generation. But as I carried your sleeping body toward the open doors at the end of the hall, I could only wonder what he would think if he knew that his granddaughter would grow up in these same rooms. Maybe as a father he could understand the reasoning behind it—even if he never used them for his own child.

A child I found staring out the window of a room I still expected to be a pale shade of blue rather than a warm gray. "It's too much space, isn't it?" He whispered, clasping his paint-speckled hands behind his back. I half expected him to turn his gaze back to the window, but his eyes were locked on you.

"She'll grow into it, Master Bruce. She'll be driving us crazy with those little tunnels before you know it." I offered, trying to keep my gaze from wandering around the room. White trees, red birds, yellow curtains, and blankets. There's no way they could have pulled that off without Miss Gordon. "Just like your father and I used to when we were boys." Watching the man sink into the plush yellow chair, I knew it would soon bear the imprint of your father's weight. A mere moth to a little flame—he didn't have a clue.

In the midst of releasing you of your raincoat, I could see him reach for the black bag. He made no move to investigate it further. He simply leaned over and shoved it in the bottom drawer of your dresser. "Sir, don't you want to know what's inside?"

But the man just shook his head as he staggered to his feet. "Where do you think P got the documents?" He didn't smirk or gloat like I expected. He just stood there, watching your shoulders rise and fall in your sleep. "Looks like you got shafted in the deal, Alfred." He whispered. I could only hide my disappointment as the man turned for the door without so much as making a move toward you.

Oh, I wasn't calling our deal off. Not yet.

* * *

By the time you stirred, the lightning and thunder had melted into nothing but rain. It certainly didn't deter you from tiptoeing down the stairs like you might wake one of us with the squeak of the floorboards. I'm sure you know just how ridiculous that is now.

I wasn't sure what you might be up to, but as you looked right and looked left before darting into the kitchen, I was hopeful. I thought to tease you—that little shadow in the light of the refrigerator, one that was struggling to reach what her fingers wanted so badly—my feet were at the ready to move and yet someone reached over your little head. "You're hungry too, huh?"

For the longest second I'd ever known, you just stared up at the man who had the sleeves of his jumpsuit tied around his waist. Master Bruce was scruffy and greasy and you? You were just blinking up at him. I didn't dare move. "So what is this?" He asked, turning the bag over in his hands as you worked yourself out of the appliance.

"Soup." You chirped, rocking back on your heels. "Mommy made it." You would've thought you slugged the man by how still he went—chest tight as if his lungs had forgotten what it is they do. "But you gotta wash your hands. You got black stuff all over you."

"Well excuse me, Alfred Jr." I hadn't seen him smile like that in so long. I'm not even sure he was aware of it. "Are you always so bossy?"

I could see you giving that nervous smile, uncertain if he were teasing or scolding you but the man went to the sink anyway.

"Bossy? It's called leadership skills."

That sound—that raspy sound. It was enough to stop the pair who came bickering out of the elevator shaft.

"Dude, you're not gonna get it started unless you take the whole thing apart first."

"Oh, yeah? Watch me—what the…"

I don't think they knew what to do with the little girl who had her hands perched on her hips, or the man who was chuckling into the sink. "All right, you know how this is supposed to work, don't you?" He asked, looking at you expectantly as he ignored the gawkers at his back.

But you just gave a dramatic sigh and took the bag out of his hand, making your father's lips part that much wider as you muttered about boys and their lack of brains.

"You gotta thaw it a little." You told him, struggling to reach the faucet even as you stretched out on your toes. I didn't expect the man to lift you up, and by your little squeak, neither did you.

"Okay, Miss Bossy, now what?"

_"Leadership skills."_

"Right."

"Now we need a pot." You said, holding out your arms. "A great big one. It'll make a lot."

"Watch this." Without missing a beat the man glanced over his shoulder at the small audience. "Dick, grab a pot would you?"

"What? Why—never mind."

Leaning against the counter the man just looked at you. " Management skills." He said, paying little mind to the young man's shaking head as he squatted down and pulled out one of my better pots. I wasn't sure he could see the twist of Jason's face as the kitchen filled with the happy sound of your giggles but he spoke without looking back.

"Jason, you should eat."

"Not hungry."

"What If I told you P made it?"

The boy stalled, gripping the doorjamb as if it were holding him in place. "Yeah right."

"But she did make it." You protested. "I brought it from my house." The sound of your voice only stilled the dark kitchen, making the rain's beating that much louder.

The boy crumbled. "Fine. I'll grab the bowls."

"Teamwork." A single word and you were beaming, earning a twitching lip out of your father.

"You catch on quick."

"Of course I do. I'm not just cute ya know." For the first time in a long time, the small skeleton child was lively, more alive than I'd seen her since her arrival. "I like my room." You said, prying your father's eyes from the stove. "It's pretty. And big." I could've held my breath when your father put a hand on your head. "Kinda reminds me of my room at home." But then you weren't looking at him. You were looking anywhere but him. "I won't ever go home…will I?"

At your words, the boys went still as Bruce let the spoon slide into the soup pot. Forcing himself onto his haunches for the second time that day, he seized you by the hands. Fatherly gesture or maybe a preventive measure to keep you in place.

"That'll always be your mother's house. It'll always be your house." He whispered, words growing thick enough to make him pause. "But this place? This is yours too. I know it's big and empty and little strange, but this is home. You are home. So do you think you could try to give it a chance?"

"Y-yeah."

"Good girl. Remind me and tomorrow I'll show you a secret."

"What kind of secret?"

"The kind that'll drive Alfred nuts."

Knowing that you were in good hands, I crept back to bed. For the first night in a long while, I slept without worry. After all, I may never get a chance to sleep again.

* * *

"They're probably still watching the house—ow."

"Stop the presses, Batgirl says ow." Alfred murmured, looking up from the small cut, but he made no move to grab more antistatic. "It appears Master Jason did indeed get carried away." He stated, tossing the young man a glare when he whirled around on his heel. "Avert your eyes Boy, or lose them."

"S-sorry."

Shivering in her bare skin, Del forced her eyes to the counter as she prepared for the bite of the needle. "I'm no batgirl." She said with a hiss as the thread wormed through her. "I'm just…a girl who plays dress up."

"Girl who plays dress up or not," Alfred started, tossing a clean shirt in her direction as he trimmed the suture. "You're the only chance they have." The girl stopped trying to work herself into the t-shirt when the old man's hand gripped her by her cheeks. "You're the daughter of the Bat and a child of dragon. You're nothing to be trifled with. Don't you dare speak such rubbish in front of me again. Do you understand, Delilah Wayne?" With the pressure of his bony fingers sliding from her face, the man snapped the first aid kit shut. "I have no doubts that we'll have eyes on us."

"So the question is, how the fuck do we get out of here without blowing the cover?"

"What did I say?!"

Jason could only blow out a breath as the scalpel in Alfred's hand landed in the wall, the cold metal handle resting against his cheek as he twisted his eyes back to the window. "Jesus, old man. I didn't see _anything_." He grumbled, listening to Del's scuffling as she worked herself back into a shirt.

"The passages…"

"The what?" Jason asked, flinching for cover as he twisted his head.

"She's dressed now, you imbecile," Alfred said with a sigh, as he routed around in the cabinet revealing a small black bag. A sight familiar enough to make the girl still. "Alan Wayne placed passages within the walls of the East wing. Some connect right to the servant's quarters. Some connect to the outside. The caves…this house…the entire property. It's all inter-connected."

"I never knew about them."

"Only the Waynes do. Old family secret I'm afraid. Alan Wayne was slightly…off. He had a fear that someone would come for him or his family. Not the kind of information you share with the rest of the world."

"But the pennyworths knew."

"We always have." The man said primly, paying no mind to Del as she wrenched open the bag before him.

"So let me get this straight, your family has been serving the Wayne's for generations. Weren't you a MI6 operative or something—"

"Retired."

"Why become...Just what kind of butler are you?"

But the old man just simpered. "Only the very best, Sir."

Ignoring Jason's rising brow, Alfred turned his attention to the girl who'd gone silent at the counter. A gray Yale t-shirt had been pulled into her lap, the documents and colorful denominations forgotten for a letter. "Madam, I know how you feel about the tunnels…" He stated, words failing as the girl reached up and smeared the tears on her cheeks.

Without a word, she folded the paper, stuffing it carefully into the cords of her katana's sheath before hastily stuffing the shirt back into the bag with the passports. "We don't have options or time." She said sliding out of the stool. "Alan Wayne might've been _off_. But he wasn't wrong."

* * *

We Pennyworths have been privy to a lot of secrets about the Wayne family. But not even we know them all. Had your father known what might transpire within those tunnels, he may never have shown them to you.

It was our secret—the first among many. I suppose it was a test, though I doubt you noticed that. You'd been given reign of a world beyond the walls and for a time that kept the skeleton child happy.

I told myself you were happy. Happy to become a cookie thief. Happy to become the Manor's smallest spy. I told myself it was for the best—best you knew the fastest way to get to me. I didn't mind the dusty little footprints or the cookie crumbs. I'd gotten so used to a little girl popping out of my kitchen cupboard with that silly smile on her face that I never realized…

… I was lying to myself.

It kept you occupied. You were so enamored with the halls that you ran for those corridors from sun up to sundown. There was a time when you didn't bother with the sun at all. The world outside had been completely forgotten.

Those dank tunnels made it easy to tuck you away in a moment's notice. Party guests, board members, countless girlfriends-they never knew.

The skeleton girl had become nothing more than a ghost, and her father was carrying on just the same as he always had…and that's the ghastly truth.

To you, it was a game—startling guests and causing smirks. But like all children, it wouldn't be long before it became a game you didn't want to play.

"I'm telling you, Bruce, I heard it. Look at this! It's giving me goosebumps just thinking about it."

It was the slipping of the Master's face that summoned me to the balcony. Reminding myself of the young woman's name I ducked into the fading light just as he let her slender white arm slide from his fingers.

"It's probably just your imagination." His tone may have told his fair-haired companion he was teasing, but a sharp lashing of his eyes and my lungs were collapsing. I knew better. I always have.

"Skeptic. I bet Alfred believes in that sort of thing." The woman sighed, lifting her lovely dark eyes to me as I reached for their empty plates.

"And what would that be Madam?" I asked, feeling the dread drop into my gut like stones as she told about a trip to the powder room and the soft crying she heard behind the walls. But just as quick as it started it had stopped. I couldn't even fake a smile for the woman.

"It's an old house," I say, watching the Master take his napkin from his lap. He wouldn't be able to keep up this charade for long. "Not to bother sir, but you also have a call from Mr. Fox. Shall I take a message for you?"

"No, no. I'll take it. I'll just be a moment."

"You always say that." The woman teased, giving him a wiry smile. But no sooner had the man stepped in did the practiced smile drop like a weight.

"Where's Del?"

"In the…passages." I don't know why the words drag out of me, but Bruce's face is already flushing. And for once, I can't tell if he's angry or just worried. "I'll look for her at once."

"I'll get rid of what's her Name? Bianca?"

"Veronica, Sir. Bianca was last month."

Without a word I move for the East wing. And while my feet are steady and certain, I can feel something worming around in my chest as I enter that hall of yours. Bright and dreadfully empty. "Madam!" No giggling. Not a knock of your bony little knuckles or the tapping of feet. There was nothing but rising of my own terrible pulse, a beat that all but propelled me to a door I hadn't opened in years.

The panel wouldn't come open easily—or at all. In my haste to rip it open, the board cracked beneath my fingers. "Aw, for Pete's sake…I just shampooed these rugs."

"Alfred did you find—Al, hold on—" Hold on Hell, I was taking that damn door down one way or another, even if my old bones hated me for it later. I wasn't sure if the cracking was my shoulder or the door, but then the thing was crashing to the ground in great plumes of dust.

"No more busting down doors for you, old man."

"Or you'll what? Fire me? Wouldn't be the first time, Master Bruce." I spat, swallowing at the stale hot air. I'd forgotten just how stifling those tunnels could be in the summer months. "She couldn't get out…the heat must've expanded the latches." I say, watching the man lean the broken panel along the wall.

"Not that she didn't try." Bruce muttered, crouching down to retrieve a small wire at his feet. "There's blood on the back side of the door, but it's dry." I don't know how he could say it like it was nothing more than a fact. He knew as well as I did how you broke free from the closet those monsters had put you in. But it didn't work. Not this time. "Why didn't she just exit through your living quarters?"

"Because…it's locked. I didn't want her spoiling her supper…" But the words just hung there as your father surged forward for the darkness, leaving me with my guilt.

"DEL!"

Breathing in the stale air I squinted at the paneled walls aware that your father's calling was growing fainter by the second. But I had a feeling that neither dust nor time could wrinkle my memory. My feet would know where to go, and the smeary red finger prints I spotted would lead the way.

I had to find you.

"Delilah!"

"You know these routes, Alfred, where else could she go?"

"I'm afraid there are secrets here even I haven't learned. Look. The prints stop at the end of this panel."

"She could've stopped bleeding." The man whispered, frowning as he ran his fingers over the dried spot in question. "But they're all consistent…"

Knocking on the wall, we stared at one another. "Hollow."

Without another word, Master Bruce ran his hands across the door. As he pulled himself from his haunches I was certain he'd found a way to open the thing. But instead, he was working himself out of his shirt and wrapping the expensive thing around his hand.

"Why look for a way to open it when you can beat it down," I grumbled as the man worked himself down to peer through the hole he'd made.

"We could but if she's not in there we'd be wasting our—" His words just lingered in the air as he all but scrambled back to his feet. I had no choice but to duck as man proceeded to kick the door in. As the board snapped and bent before me, I could finally see the dull gray room that had been hidden away.

And there balled in the corner was the little skeleton girl.

It's a musty place, choked with dust and webbed by age. But there's a sharpness, like salt water, and the unmistakable odor of vomit. I couldn't care less. I just want you in my arms as fast as possible. "Delilah?" You don't stir and for the briefest second, I fear the worst as your body rolls into my arms. But your shallow breath is pooling against my chest, and my name comes crackling out.

"Alfred...you're hurt." Lifting you, I can see what's kept Master Bruce. There, strapped to the rusted bed is a skeleton, mouth open as if it were screaming. How could know one know? "I don't like this game anymore. I don't want to be a ghost."

"You don't have to. Wayne Manor has enough of them." I say, aware that your father is moving toward the corner that I've pulled you from, brow furrowing. "Master Bruce?"

"Something's off…"

"It's cooler there." You croak, making the man still. "There's air."

"I'll be damned." Unsure of what to make of his words, I could only watch in horror as he forced his shoulder into the stone, certain he would break something before the rock would give. But it did give with a great scraping groan.

We knew that damp earthy smell long before the chirp of bats could reach out ears. "Your grandfather must've walled this up long ago." But was it to keep Thomas and I out? Or to keep the family secrets in?

* * *

"This isn't creepy, or anything." Jason scoffed, blowing at the cobwebs that were reaching for his face. "And they let you play back here?"

But the silent girl at Alfred's back only hugged her arms tighter to her body, knuckles white around the handle of that small black bag. "Something like that."

If he knew any better he'd swear she was holding her breath. But just as his hand might feel the sharp bones of her shoulder, Alfred was ripping a door open, letting them escape into a wider…dustier room. Just where was this old geezer leading them? "What the hell is this?" Jason asked, squinting at what could only a collapsed bed frame.

"Great-grandfather and his secrets…" There had to be more to the woman she found all those years ago, but the dead don't give up their secrets easily. If her father knew the identity of the woman in the unnamed grave he hadn't said.

"Or Alan's." Alfred put in, giving a groan as he pushed back that heavy stone door, letting the humid air wash over them. "I'm sorry, Madam, I wish I could do more," Alfred said, stepping back to let them peer into the darkness beyond him. "There's a thin trail caved from this point down to the water. The tide's still low enough that you can follow the cliff face to the main road. But once the tide rises, the path is lost. Do hurry." He said, his long fingers frantically digging into his pockets before shoving a set of keys at her. "It's tucked off the exit marker."

"Alfred what about you? I can't leave you here! What if Elliot—" But before the words could escape, Jason grabbed her by the back of her jacket and was pushing her into the darkness "Jase! Wait!"

"MI-6 remember? He'll be fine."

But then the old man had a hand on him. "Keep that in mind should anything happen to her. The bat will be the least of worries."

* * *

"Is he in?" By the way the woman just blinked at her. Evelyn Cleary was sure the woman hadn't heard her. Tucking a wayward hair behind her ear she realized why the woman's eyes had gone so wide. She couldn't pull her sleeve over her wrist quick enough. Could they all see? Did they all know? Is that why the station was so damn quiet?

"Y-yes of course." The officer stammered, eyes flitting from the tug of her sleeve. "Follow me."

Heart hammering, she followed after the woman, holding her wrist as if it would stop the ache, but even as she passed through the cramped halls, she could feel those wandering eyes sliding back toward her.

"Are you alright, Mrs. Cleary?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm fine…" She wasn't sure if the whisper had sold her, but she could see the door to Jim's office fast approaching. Squeezing the thick envelope in her fingers, she found herself staring down at the grubby orange tiles. "A little too much over time." She added, thankful that the woman was poking her head into the office to announce her arrival rather than asking anything more. Surely they wouldn't want to pry too much. She was the Commissioner's sister after all.

She'd gone to him for everything. Skinned knees to broken hearts and decisions she was far too young to make. Jim had always been her rock. It didn't matter what she'd done, he'd be there. But what about now? He'd have to draw the line at this, wouldn't he?

"Hey, Mom."

"Chinese again, Jim?" She should've been wrinkling her nose at the smell deep fried day old whatever it was he was eating. But instead she simply opened her arms to the child who'd sprang around the desk. Her youngest could almost fit under her chin. Had it been that long? "Hi, Baby."

"Someone looks like I feel." He teased, but the smile that was peaking around that gray mustache faltered as Jordon slid from her arms. "Just get off the night…"

"Mom, you're bleeding."

Glancing down, she could see that the blood had soaked through the sleeve of her jacket. "Oh, it's nothing…" She murmured, wincing as Jim's chair squeaked with his rising. "Just a mishap. It better come out, I love this jacket." She said handing the envelope to Jordon. "Hey, I need you do me a really big favor. You think you can run this down to your sister?"

"Aw, Mom—"

"Go on, Jor."

"Thank you." She called as the boy slithered out at his uncle's command. But her big brother was already closing the gap. She couldn't stop the tears. After this, they'd hate her.

"Evie?" When she said nothing grabbed the arm in question.

"Please don't." But it was too late, she could feel the air on her skin and her shirt sticking to her arm as he ripped up her sleeve exposing the deep gash across her wrist. No amount of gauze and cotton could hide the truth.

"Ah, Sis, what did you do?" He asked, throat bobbing as he reached for her other arm. That wrist too was hastily wrapped. He didn't have to unbind it to know what he'd find. "Evie…Evie. Why?"

"I-I…"

"What about your kids? What about—"

"I tried and I couldn't…Jim, I'm going to Hell."

Behind those thick round glasses, she could see his eyes going wider before he yanked her forward. His arms felt like vice grips. "It's just a divorce, Evie. It's not a sin."

"No…but murder is, isn't it?"

"Murder? Eve, you're not making any sense."

"Jim, I don't think you can save me this time."

* * *

She's putting on a good show. But the truth is? I know she's dead tired. I know her muscles have shaken so hard they ache. I know the sweat on her back has turned to slime. She won't tell me that—stubborn shit. She doesn't have to. I already know.

"They're probably here by now." I utter, rolling the window down ignoring spit coming out of the clouds. Only the flick of my lighter steals her attention from the grubby brick building. "Shouldn't keep them waiting for too long."

"They can wait a few minutes more."

"Someone's bitchy." But she doesn't retort, she simply lifts her phone, illuminating the cab and the skinny wisps of smoke that aren't quite making it out of the window. "Del…you don't have to do this. You can back out righ—"

She just stares at me. She's not having any of my shit. And the only thing that makes it into my brain is how gray her eyes look in this light. For one second I'd forgotten about the criminal mastermind that was waiting on us and all the ways this plan could go south.

Did she forget that her dear old dad had put most of these people—if not all of them—in the clink? "Never mind." No, scratch that. She just doesn't care. I kinda like that about the boobless wonder. "So what's the plan?"

The question doesn't stop her fingers from moving across the screen. Hell, she doesn't even bother to look up. "Find Damian." She answers at last. "Find Damian, we find Dad."

"Wait, you don't even know where we're heading—"

"I didn't say that." I can hear her phone ringing. "Sam?" I can't say a fucking thing. I know that girl hates me, not that I blame her. I hate me too. "Were you able to ping off the tracker?"

_"You bet your ass I did. If Damian found it, he must've left it." The girl says, her voice giving in to the sound of keys. "Just how did you put a tracker on the ninja anyway?"_

Del's smiling into the phone, the low light making those pearly teeth gleam. "Well, I realized that every time I went out by myself he always seemed to find me. Found his little tracker sewn into the tongue of my boot. I just returned it is all."

_"You two are a mess. I'll send you coordinates, and then I'll see what kind Intel I can scrounge up. Shame the main computer's in lockdown. I feel like we're sending you in blind."_

"We'll be fine. Where's Tim?"

I just stare at her, earning nothing but a furrowing brow. _"_Barb'll_ be heading down to the GCPD to use their lab for the anti-venom. Barb kicked Tim down to the cafeteria. I'll keep you posted."_

With the beep of an ended call, she tilted her head. "What?"

"We'll be fine, huh? Overconfident much? Our plan's half-baked at best—" The little bitch was pushing her door open, cutting me off as she ripped up her hood and leaned in to face me.

"Where's Jason Todd and what have you done with him? Last I checked he wasn't such a pansy ass." She shot back, snatching her katana before slamming the door. "It's called winging it."

"Someone let you spend way too much time with Dick." I don't know if she hears me, she just disappears into the pub. I won't let her be alone for long,

"_She's far too young for the likes of you." I didn't know what to say to the man. Del hadn't been out of the room longer than a blink and it was already too long. I didn't expect him to haul off and punch me in the shoulder. "I see the way you look at her," Alfred said, words soft as he shoved the first aid kit back on the shelf._

"_And what way is that?"_

"_It's a look I've never seen on your face before." My mouth was flopping and I knew it, groping the air for something to say, something I can hurl at him. Something that'll hurt. Something that'll shut him up. But he's faster. "The way a man looks when he cares." _

"_I just owe her. That's all."_

I curse at the sky and mash my unfinished smoke into the concrete. "Just couldn't leave it alone, could you Al?" Some of us just want to keep our secrets.

* * *

"Do you know what's here?"

I'm not the only one who sits up in his chair when Bane's massive shadow stretches over the table to peer at the small device Del is pushing forward. Bird's been rather quiet. It's not like him not be giving orders or a ration of shit, but he's melancholy at best. We both know what he's capable of.

"I haven't been to the North African compound in years." He says, and we're all watching Del shrink back, cheeks filling with a breath. This plan's so screwed. "The layout may have changed." He offers, those dark bottomless eyes flicking toward her as if he can sense the hesitation. "But I still know how to get there."

"Not the fucking Sahara."

"Oh, don't be such a baby." I knew the silken voice, and by the way Bird's head popped up, I knew he'd had his run-ins with the always delightful Scandal Savage. If I told her she reminded me of Talia, she'd cut off my balls. Immortal father, good in a fight. In truth—she's a hard bitch to get rid of. Like some other lunatic I know.

"So tell me," She purrs leaning over the table. "You actually know how to use that blade?" She asks, snagging Del's hand off the table. I'm not sitting anymore. I know what Scandal can do. "With such soft hands—" But the words stall as she turns the girl's hand over, revealing the jagged scars.

"Nothing is quite as it appears, Scandal," Bane tells her, paying no mind to Delilah as she rips her hand back.

"Just who are you anyway?"

"It doesn't matter, Scandal. You're not going." Bird rumbles, earning nothing but a cluck of that Brazilian tongue.

"Neither are you, Bird."

"What?! After all the shit I went through to secure a plane?! I'm not sending her—"

"You're not going," Del says suddenly, ignoring her uncle's pinching brow. I don't know if removing an ally for her father's secret is worth the risk but to Hell with it. We're winging it.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see the man lifting an arm, summoning that temperamental falcon from its perch. "Are you sure?" He asks. If he can see that shadow sliding over Bane's face, he's ignoring it and putting all his attention on the hooded girl.

"Yes."

"He goes with you then." He says, sending the bird toward her.

I can't tell you how many times that freaking thing drew blood and tore suits and made things less than favorable for the bat and boy wonder—and now it's sitting on Del's arm like it belongs there. I hate that falcon. But the action tells me something more.

Bird's worried.

"You speak the same langue as birds?" Bane ask, he eyes slithering toward me as I shove the extra league of assassin's gear across the table.

"Yes." She answers, eyes weighing on me before she snaps up the gear with her free hand. "We speak the same langue." With that she locked herself into the dark little office, toting Talon with her.

It's only when the mercenaries disperse into the noise in the front of the house that I slither back into my chair. "You see a problem," I say, half listening to the noise of patrons and the soft shuffle behind Bird's office door.

"I don't know if it's a problem." Bird mutters, leaning his ugly mug into his hand. "It's odd and I don't care for it. He's not taking anyone from the usual crew."

"So you don't know the mercenaries he's got?"

"Not a single one. I don't trust them."

"And Bane?"

But the man just stared at me. I got the message_. Least of all_. That's just great.

* * *

I wish I could say she was leaning against my side simply because she wanted to. Stupid, of course. I know she's got an ulterior motive. She's using me. Using me to keep herself upright. Using me to keep warm. And I let her. I'm the only ally in this rickety cargo plane that she's got.

That's not saying much.

"Just where did you get _that_?"

At Bane's question, Del's fingers pause on the keyboard of her laptop as she glances at the man who's squinting at her from his resting position. I can see her looking down as he reaches over and slides the small green-hilted sword away from her.

"Someone important gave it to me." She said carefully, watching the man turn the scaly sword over in his hands.

"Someone important." He repeats, glancing at her as if he can see her expression through the balaclava. "And how would the girl come to know this important person?" But she's quiet, so quiet that the sound of Bane's laugh forces the mercenaries to look up from their card game.

Without another word he hands it back to her hilt first, watching her as she clutches it closer. "Is that my venom?" He asks suddenly. He doesn't care that the hull is the quietest it's ever been. I can see the nod and I can hear that swallowing noise she trying so hard to hide. "Show me."

It's not an invite.

I'm more than happy to tell the meat sack to go fuck himself, but Del soundlessly works her way to her feet.

She seems so fragile. I wouldn't be able to reach her in time if he decided to snap her neck. Now I'm just cold, grumpy and thinking of all the ways I could kick him out of this plane.

I'd settle for Talon shitting on him in the meantime.

* * *

We both have ulterior motives and I'll take the risks for mine. With a falcon's claws poking through my cloak and a scabbard digging into my hip, I have no choice but to sink down beside the man who'd all but snapped my dad in two. I need whatever answers he'll let slide. In turn, I'll let him see what my mother had created.

"It's stronger…" He murmurs, and in that second my insides shudder, there'll be consequences for this and I don't know if I can afford the price. But it's too late.

"It's one of the reasons making the anti-venom has been so difficult. And considering we have to make it artificially…" I say, aware that the pinched face and hard eyes are meant for me. "Not that it was ever natural to begin with."

"No, it wasn't. May I?" He doesn't wait for an answer he just relieves me of my computer. "I was nothing more than an experiment. The first in few to survive."

"What happened to the others?"

"Their hearts exploded." He shrugged those massive shoulders. "I wasn't always so immune. It took time to build this immunity…this addiction—one painful day at a time. It's venom. It's deadly. And it's more addictive than heroin." I know what he's telling me. If we can save those affected, the fight won't end there. It'll be like detoxing heroin addicts. The longer it's in the system the worse it'll be. And I've made them wait. I put Dad first.

Leaning my head back on the splintery wooden crate behind me, I could see Jason slipping that white piece of paper from the cords of my Katana. Either he thought he was sneaky or he just didn't care. I'm pretty sure it was the latter.

At four I could write my name, but not much else. I remember writing out each skinny cap under Mr. Wayne's careful eye. I didn't wonder why he was in my mother's office without her, or what could make him look so sad despite the half-hearted smile. I just remember handing him the pen and asking him to write his name. He left me a five letter word. I couldn't read then. But I'll tell you now, it didn't begin with B.

Half watching Jase fold a bit of my past back into neat squares and half watching Bane wander through my mother's files, I pull my knees to my chest. I know what Jason's thinking over there shaking his head. The man who wrote that word is gone. He won't be what I find.

I know that, but I still hope…I don't know why. It's kind of like hoping the dead will come back to life.

* * *

"_I should've asked for anti-venom! I should've—why didn't I put everyone else first?!"_

"_Because deep down, you're selfish and human just like the rest of us." In retrospect, that probably wasn't the best thing to say, especially when it did nothing but reduce her to a pile of wilted flesh and bone. _

"_**Jason**__!" _

"_Sorry, no filter. You wanted to know why now you do." I muttered. Not sure what to do with the girl who was making fists in her hair. _

"_What if—what if I don't find him in time? What if I just condemned Dick and hundreds of people to death?! " She cried, sniffing as if that would clear the snot. "I could've helped Dick and we could have found—" _

"_You love your Dad, Del. That's it!" I didn't mean to yell at her. "Stop apologizing for it! He doesn't apologize for shit and neither should you!" I was sure Bird would hear us yelling in his office, but the door at my back never opened._

"_But I love my birds too." I can't breathe. Not brothers. Birds. I was a bird once. With the weight of her words, my arms fall to my sides. "I broke my promise." _

_Now I was easing to the floor, more than aware that her face was just a breath away. "You haven't broken any promises yet. You made the demon spawn a promise too, didn't you?" _

"_How do you know about __**that**__?" _

"_I asked a question." _

"_Yes. I did." _

"_He's counting on you too. Dick would make you go to him first. C'mon, you know that. That's Dickhead 101. If you want to feel guilty about it, fine. Feel guilty. It'll be your secret and I'll keep it. You just gotta do me one thing. Just one." _

"_I'm listening." _

"_Don't brood. It's creepy."_

* * *

"I just need a big enough window to find the first target without alerting them. After that, all bets are off." The girl I'd found weighed down by her decisions was long gone, hidden by a mask and a coating of sand.

"So…how likely is it for all Hell to break loose?"

"I guarantee it."

The merc grinned, making creases in the sand on his face. "I think I like those odds." He said, causing his two buddies to laugh. They'd come to regret it the second they found themselves chewing on a little extra protein. Locusts are little on the crunchy side.

"What if…we get a little excited?"

I could see Bane's mouth working as if he were about to break his silence, he hadn't said a word since we climbed in the back of this truck, but before a sound could leave him, there was a blade at the man's throat. He wasn't smiling anymore.

"You'll contain yourselves or you'll find how easily a body can get lost in the Sahara." Bane rumbled, reaching across me to lower Delilah's blade. "Don't bloody your sword with this lot, Girl. Not when the desert kills for free."

Without another word, he tilted his gaze back to the open flaps of canvas. "You are here for money and blood. Do your jobs and you'll see both."

Out here, I couldn't tell the dunes from one to the next. But for the man beside me, I think it was a hell of a lot more than that. This had been home once. I didn't need to tell an Ubu what to do. But I wonder what it's like slipping into the skin of a man you no longer are.

I was a regular fixture in their ranks, and with a former Ubu, we'd have no problem getting in. Bane could easily keep tabs on Ras, and I would no doubt be summoned to the queen of psychos. That would leave Delilah free to find Bruce or Damian, and once she found one of them, she could no doubt find the other.

Leaving would be tricky. And that's where the mercenaries and the heiress' money came in. We'd paid the same piolet to land at our coordinates upon signaling, but there was no guarantee.

By the time the walls of the compound rose out of the dunes and sand-worn cliffs, Del's chest was still. Ready or not, this was happening. I wish I had more details to give her, but I'd never been to this location. We were all in the dark…perhaps say for one. "Guess at the best route?"

"Rooftops. Always."

"_Naturally_."

"I thought you'd like that." I teased, hopping out of the back of the truck when it jerked to a stop.

"Heights never bothered me anyway."

"You should've been a bird." I could see the skin crinkling around those pale blue eyes when I tossed her a grappling gun. She may have been raised by a bird, but she was always meant to be something else.

* * *

"One day, Damian, you'll see it our way."

"_Tch_."

"She was in your way."

His wrists were raw. If they hadn't bound him during his sedation maybe his muscles wouldn't have been so sore. It would've been easier to break free. "You mean to say she was in your way, don't you, Grandfather?" He shot back, watching the man pause. It wasn't often that he earned his Grandfather's disdain. In fact, he wasn't sure if he'd ever had it before. "She wasn't in my way." He muttered, aware the man was shaking his head over his goblet.

"Don't sulk, it's unbecoming."

"And what of Father? Will he see it your way?"

"He won't even remember her." The words rolled of off his tongue so simply that it had the boy rearing up his head. "Before long, his mind will be nothing but a clean slate—a slate ready for us to fill. Certain obstacles had to be removed before we could even attempt to use the technology on him."

"What obstacles? Grandfather, what _obstacles_?!"

"It no longer matters. The future is all you should concern yourself with."

"I see." Damian huffed, letting his head bow to the floor, aware of the sunlight that was burning its way through the glass dome above their heads. "This was always the plan..." He murmured unsure of the shadows he could make out on the polished floor. It was enough to still his busy fingers.

By the time the glass was shattering, The boy had forced himself to roll to his side, his loose fingers snatching and grabbing at any loose shards he could reach.

"What is the meaning of this—" But the words just stalled when the unknown ninja ripped that sword of scales free. "YOU!" He could scarcely pull his own sword free to block the coming blow. "You should be—"

"Dead? Yeah, I could say the same for you!" Del cried sliding back to miss a jab from the man. "Not bad for a little girl who likes to play dress up, right? You just never know what I'll be next."

"Bleeding on the floor suited you so well." Ras sneered, forcing her back with a swipe of his blade, unaware that his grandson was staring up from the floor, eyes wide and unmoving.

She came. She actually…came. The glass was digging into his knees when Damian rolled upright, slipping his binds with his bloody hands he went tearing across the study. Grandfather was never without a watchful detail. Snagging a katana from his grandfather's belt, the boy slid beneath the clamoring swords, ramming the steel into the door just as it might burst.

"DAMIAN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

"Removing obstacles."

"_Down_!"

No sooner had the command roared out of his sister, did the boy realize that she had taken a spear from the wall. Stomach clenching, his grandfather's eyes were wide. He expected to feel the splatter of blood on his face. He expected to hear the sound of metal tearing through flesh and bone, but instead there was only the snap of wood.

Ras Al Ghul was pinned to the bookcase at his back. The blood was minimal at best. If anything it looked ridiculous. But before any snide remark could escape, the man tilted his head back and filled the room with his laugh. "You missed." He chided, grimacing as the girl crouched down in front of him, gripping him by the face.

"No. I didn't."

"The next time we meet, Little Dragon, you won't be able to walk away."

"Maybe not. But I'm not the one who's afraid of dying." Del said, ignoring the man's glare. "Touch my bat or any of my birds again and I swear, I'll take you down with me." She hissed rising to her feet as the world just outside filled with the sound of gunshots. Hell had arrived. "Damian, what you do next is up to you."

But the boy was already yanking the sword out of the door. "Since when did I become your property?" He asked, ducking into the fight just outside.

"From the second I learned that you were my brother." The girl said, sliding in to deflect the blade at his back. But the boy said nothing more of the matter as his shoulders pressed into her spine.

"You left him alive for me." The boy muttered, ignoring the blood at his feet as he ripped his sword free. "Didn't you?" He expected her to say something. Something about his question or the bodies he was leaving behind. But what came out of her had nothing to do with either.

"Any ideas where they might stuff Dad?"

"A few."

"You take the left I take the right and we'll leave the rest for the mercenaries to deal with." But no sooner had she spoken was the boy taking off, his cry echoing over the clatter of steel and the pop of gunfire. "Or you can take them all out..." Del huffed, paying no mind to that cockeyed grin when he wandered back with his Katana resting over his shoulder. "You know, you really are a fun-sucker."

"_Tch_. Not my fault you can't keep up. You coming or not?"

"I'm sorry, who just traveled half way around the world to rescue you?"

"About that, you think you can be a little faster next time?"

"_Next time_?! Who said there was gonna be a _next time_?!"

* * *

"Tim, if you don't stop that pacing I swear! "

"She went in blind!" The boy shot back, earning nothing but a wide-eyed stare. "Shit. Sorry. I don't mean to—"

"Go get her! Because if you don't…" She said, words trailing when she realized there was a familiar face on the other side of the Plexiglas, face crushed, and his scrawny limbs forcing him across the floor and back again as if he just couldn't reach the door. "I might strangle you."

"Dick doesn't have anything that can make that kind of distance—" Watching the girl's face knit, the teen whirled around on his heel, not sure of what to make of the nervous child. "Isn't that your brother?"

"Yeah," Sam whispered, slowly rising to her feet. "Dragons fly, don't they?"

"They do." The boy said, pausing as he reached for the door. "Ever met any of them?"

"Nope."

"Shit."

"You'll be fine. Just…don't tell them you're dating Del." She was teasing but Tim didn't so much a flinch. "Barb's at the GCPD lab. I won't leave Grayson."

"And what exactly could you do if…" But no sooner had the words left him did the girl reach into the back of her jacket, revealing a .45 in the soft sheen of the monitors.

"Don't ask me stupid questions." She huffed, stuffing it back into the waistband of her jeans.

"You're kinda scary." He whispered, watching Jordan Cleary lift his drooping head when he peeled back the glass door.

"Tim? If you don't tell her the truth I'll show you just how scary I can be." There! There was a ghost of a flush and a sliver of a smile. But Sam's own smirk fell as Jordan squeezed by him, teeth sinking into his lip as if he was trying so damn hard not to cry.

"Jor, what are you doing here? What's wrong?" But the boy said nothing as stretched his hand out to her, revealing the pale white envelope.

"Mom wanted me to—I know I wasn't supposed to—I just…"

"It's alright, it's cool," Sam said softly accepting the already opened letter, unsure of what could make the kid look like a refugee who'd seen too much. That was before the letter. A letter that was meant to be the last one.

* * *

"Sam, I think we've got a problem." Wheeling herself through the sliding door, Barbra let her ears become reacquainted to the click and hiss of the machines. Though she wasn't sure if she could ever get used to the sight of a machine forcing the man in the bed to breathe. That wasn't Dick. That wasn't how he was supposed to live.

Sam, she realized, was leaning over the cheap hospital table, computer closed, mouth resting in her hand. "Sam?"

The flick of her stare was sharp and heavy, but the girl only leaned to the side and worked a bit of cash out of her pocket. Only when she held it out, did she see Jordan balled at her feet, whipping his snotty nose on the caps of his knees. "Hey, go to grab something to drink."

"What about—"

"We'll take care of it." But the words were directed at the woman in the wheelchair, not the child who was pulling himself to his feet.

"You okay, Kiddo?" But the boy just shook his head and went straight for the door without even looking at her. "Sam, what's going on?"

"How long have you known?" The girl whispered, flattening the creases out of the letter with her hand. Barb's arms were limp. And for one fleeting second she could see the hesitation.

"How long have I known what?"

"Oh, cut the crap Barb! How long?! How long did you know that you're my sister?!" The words hit like a cannonball to the chest.

"A while," Barb whispered, shifting in her chair as her own words were coated with the ache in the back of her throat. "Since your transplant…I wanted to tell you. But with your mom and dad—"

"She's your mom too." Sam put in, words bitter and wet, but she was handing that paper out to her. "Apparently she tried to kill herself." The girl blurted, watching Barba's head slide into her own hand as she looked the letter over. "She showed up at Uncle Jim's office. I guess she had second thoughts."

"Shit, where's my phone?"

"I tried calling, no one is answering. Not Mom or Uncle Jim."

"We need to get to her. Right now." Barb croaked, frantically ripping her phone from the messenger bag on her chair.

"What? So she can wallow in self-pity and tell us how _sorry_ she is? Sorry that she really did slam that proverbial door on you? Or sorry that none of us were important enough for her to stick around?!" Sam cried, unsure if she was the one sniffling or if it was Barb. "I told you they're not answering."

But Barbra was putting the phone to her ear anyway. "Alfred, we could use a hand."

* * *

"Of course, Madam. I'll arrive there shortly. Just one small matter I must see to first." Letting his phone slide back into his sleeve, Alfred Pennyworth set his eyes back down to the shotgun, half listening to shifting of an empty house as he pumped a round into the chamber.

"Don't worry," He said, aware that the sound had brought the dogs to his chairside, eyes bright, ears at attention. "These old hands still know their way around a firearm." With that he leaned over and letting himself sip at the emptying glass of brandy, signaling the beasts to stay put as the slam of car door slipped from beyond the walls.

The young pup was eager to move, his back paws were all but scratching at the carpet to keep his body stacked beneath him, but only a soft command kept the Great Dane still. "Steady now, boys. We wait for the prey to come to us." Turning out the light, Alfred would do exactly that. He'd wait. Wait for that creature to walk through the door.

"He's already there?" At the sound of the great doors shutting from the foyer, Alfred could only grit his teeth and hold his place. He'd known this man since he was a child! A child that had played in these very rooms, laughing and screaming, carrying on as children do. This man had been the young master's friend. His only friend at times. And now? Now he was nothing more than a traitor among many.

"He's thorough, I'll give him that. He even cleaned up the mess. A shame about Alfie. He would've been useful."

_Master Jason? Clean? Hardly!_

Leaning forward, Alfred set into the gun, focusing in on the shapes in the sights as Jax began to growl. Elliot was silent, no doubt mauling over the noise and what it meant. "We forgot about the dog. I thought your kid was taking it with him!"

"_There was no time. Are you really going to whine to me about a dog?" _

"Lady, I take it you've never met this dog. He's never been a fan of me."

Through his inhale, he could see the shadow looming just outside the cracked door of the den, any second he was going to push that door wide open. Finger resting in the trigger well, the door gave with a creak, putting Thomas Elliot face to barrel. The phone thumped to the floor. "Alfred?!"

"Glad you remember, _Sir_."

"_Alfred?! That old geezer should be rotting in a hole somewhere Elliot?! Elliot! If you've messed this up I'll kill you myself!" _

"This is the part where you run."

"You really think you can shoot me with this face?"

"Let's test that shall we?"

Elliot twisted and bolted back down the foyer, ducking at the debris the shots had flying at his head as the man scrambled for the door. Hard to do with a Doberman hot on your heels and a hapless pup following suit.

The ground was slick with frost, but Pennyworth's feet were steady and certain in the over growth. With the shot gun hanging over his arm he could see the man fleeing down the lawn. Before long he'd reach the trees. But Alfred wasn't in a hurry, he simply fished around in his pocket for more shells.

Only at his leisure would he aim and fire, taking care not to hit the dogs or Elliot—in any place that mattered.

Strolling forward he gave a whistle, cursing as the Doberman ignored him. That thing was hard headed just like its owner! Lifting the gun he aimed, waited and fired, sending the man tumbling to the gnarled roots of the trees.

"GOD DAMN IT!" Thomas howled, holding his arm across his face to keep a certain dog's teeth from digging into him.

"Yell all you want, Tommy," Alfred said, bending down to pick up the still hot shells. "There is no God here. He abandoned this place long ago." Easing down the embankment he could see what Elliot's fingers were so desperately trying to reach. Crushing his hand with the butt of the gun, Alfred plucked the handgun out of the pine needles.

"The neighbors might ask about the noise." Alfred said, unloading a round into the man's knee. "If they ever gather the nerve, that is." He added, reaching in and grabbing the Doberman by the collar. There might've been a time in his life when he would've flinched to see skin and flesh dangling from a man's face. Then again, it wasn't a face that belonged to him.

"I say, he really did rip your face off, didn't he? You see, Thomas, you might put on a mask, but it's not what makes the man."

"How can you look at me and smile?!" The wheezing cartilage and gurgling breathes bothered him just as much as the smell of singed flesh and blood—it didn't. But strangely enough, watching the man roll to his side, all Alfred could see was that red-haired boy he'd once been.

"You really didn't think they hired me for my cooking skills now did you?"

* * *

"You lied to me!"

His face was itching, the hood was getting hot already, but Jason forced a sigh even though it tasted like blood. It'd been a while since he'd been beaten this badly. Hell, the ache was almost too familiar. "It's kinda my thing."

"I've got target one." He cursed to himself as the woman's eyes went round. Shit, this close she could hear the earpiece.

"She's alive?!"

"And about to ruin your entire day. Father like daughter I guess."

"No! She'll ruin—find them! Find her! Find that little bitch!"

* * *

"This place isn't weird or anything." Del uttered, slipping into the lab behind the ten year old.

"It's where I was born," Damian says, shrugging his bony shoulders. But as he leads the way through the dimly lit room, he realizes that his sister isn't following. She's just standing there as if he'd struck her.

"You were born here?"

"Technically." He says, pointing to a round incubator.

"No wonder…" Now he's the one still, unsure of what to make of the look on his sister's face.

"What?"

"It just explains a lot." She says, working her way by him, ignoring the shadows and the light that's reflecting in the empty place. He was more than Talia's pawn. He was her chief experiment. She didn't want a child. She wanted a weapon. One that would inflict maximum damage to a man she loved to hate. A man she knew just a little too well. What could get to him faster than something made of his own flesh and blood? It was the one thing that she was sure he didn't have.

"I fail to see how." But the girl just shook her head, as she cruised through the facility, hugging her arms to herself as each spot came up empty.

"I don't think he's here." She said, head snapping to the sound of the boy's groaning as he shoved a heavy metal to the panel to the side. But no sooner had it revealed another chasm, did the boy just stand there in the wispy clouds that came pouring out. Cold storage? "Damian?" His eyes were wide and unblinking as he stepped into the unit.

Her bones ached to shiver, but as Del's foot sank into the crusty ice on the floor, her breath left her first. It was a narrow space, but it was lined with frosted sacs. None of them looked empty.

With her heart pulsing in her ears, Del forced herself to reach out to one of the alien looking things. Wiping away the film, she felt her lungs collapse in on themselves. A person?! The girl stumbled back, stopping herself when she realized there were more behind her. Smaller but the same, trapped in a sac like a fetus just waiting to be born. "There-There all—"

"_Me_…there all me." The boy whispered, his hand stalling in the air to keep from reaching out.

"She has an _army_." The teen whispered, watching her breath wander up to the ceiling as the sound of clanking swords forced her attention back to the lab. "We have to go! Damian! Now!" She snapped, yanking the boy out of the locker by the scruff of his hoodie.

When the room all but burst with bodies, Dell had no choice but to knock off the beakers and tubes. Acid. Dragging the numb boy she leaped across the tables and darted for the door. "Where else?! C'mon, Damian! Where else?!" She cried, leaving a trail of smoke bombs in her wake.

"There's one more place. Below the pits." The boy said, taking a second to swallow.

"Show me," Del hissed, shaking the boy by the shoulders. "Damian, please!"

The boy didn't answer, but instead grabbed the girl by the sleeve and took off down the hall. There wasn't time to think. She called him Damian, but was he even the real one? Not now! Not. Now. Instead, he could only lead her deeper into the compound. Deeper into the earth. "We have submergible cells." He huffed, his feet taking the winding stairs two at a time.

"In the Lazarus pit?"

"No, it's a pool from the same spring but the water is useless. It has none of the same properties, but it makes for a good base for any of our experiments with the pits." The boy rattled on, pausing only to listen.

The chamber wasn't empty. Pulling his sword free he stopped the teen. "Go straight into the water. Don't stop. You understand? Don't stop. I'll cover you."

Swim. I'm gonna have to…swim.

"Is the process complete?" Talia.

"Nearly. It needs more time to erase his memory, or else he could relapse."

The boy tore down the stairs, forcing the girl to bolt after him, "Go!" She couldn't look back, as she made a flying leap into the pool.

"NO!"

Taking a deep breath, she dove, hands frantically pulling at the water that was slowly growing darker. The blood looked like clouds, great red plumes that were turning everything black. Lungs aching, the girl could only squint at the shifting shapes below her as she pulled herself closer and closer to the bottom.

Just as panic began to set in, she spied the metal capsule sitting on the pool floor. It was a relief and yet it did nothing to sooth the need to gasp. Hands frantically pulling at the metal latches, the water all but sucked her inside as the thing cracked open. Finally, she could breathe.

Gulping at the air, Del took in what was before her. The man looked like her father. But then, attached to all these tubes and electrodes he could've been anything else. The water was rushing in. "Dad!" She cried, first tapping the man on the face, half relieved he was at least still breathing. But he wouldn't be for long if she didn't get him out. "DAD! Dad! C'mon we have to go!"

Then she did something she was sure she'd never do. She slapped him. It was enough to have those pale blue eyes peering at her through his lashes. "Where the hell—who the hell are you?" The water was rising and all the teen could feel was sheer panic. He didn't know who she was! Oh, God.

"It's Del," She said with a inhale as she ducked under the water to rip the electrodes off his legs. "Delilah?" She said again, feeling the dread swallow her whole. He was just staring at her. Face blank. "Your daughter?!"

"I don't have—"

"Yes, you do! Yes, you do! You have _me_!" She cried, "And if you don't help me get you out, you're going to drown. We both will." The water had her by the neck, shit. There wasn't enough time. What was she supposed to do? She couldn't leave him here, but if she stayed... "Daddy! _Daddy please_!"

Her head went under. Time was out. For the bleakest moment in her life she was sure she'd consigned her father to death, but then something had grabbed her, hoisting her above the water. "Swim." It was the only thing he commanded as he shoved her back down into the water, and she did just that, squeezing herself back out of the capsule and dragging herself to the surface.

She couldn't think. She couldn't so much as let her body shiver. She wasn't even sure if the cavernous room was empty. All she knew was that he hadn't reached the surface. "Daddy?!" Nothing. Nothing. And then the water broke some distance away.

"So you _do_ call him Daddy. You're such a suck-up."

"Jason." The girl breathed, letting him fish her out of the water. "You look like Hell." She said, legs wobbling as they found dry ground. Jason was blood-soaked, but he was still reaching a hand out to the man behind her.

Realizing the man had not a stitch of clothing, the girl turned around. "Shit. Where's Damian?" She asked, now that she was looking everywhere but behind her. Damian was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm right here, you idiots." Damian hissed, tossing clothing over his sister's head. "I see you let my mother get away, Todd." He grumbled, twisting his head at the sound of heavy boots coming down the stairs.

"Like she got very far. I could've stayed out there instead you know." No, he had be sure.

"She's got one more strike up her sleeve," Bruce muttered voice muffled as he pulled the balaclava over his head just as Bane and his small troop came filing down the curving stairs. "She always does."

"The girl has both her targets." He says, letting his eyes rest on the man behind her. "Now we leave." With her father cutting in front of her, Del followed suit, letting Damian duck under her arm to get ahead. She had her brother. She had her father. So why wasn't she pleased with herself?

Feeling something heavy and warm sling over her shoulders, the girl paused. "You're shaking." The jacket stunk of gun polish and rust, and all she wanted to do was sink into it. Instead, she could only follow the group out into the darkness, where there was wind and sand and enemies all around.

"Always have to be right, don't you, you big jerk?"

Del couldn't hear her father's response, or Damian's snide remark as she pressed into her father's side. There was nothing but the sound of her wheezing lungs and blowing sand.

* * *

**_AN: There we go. I'm so sorry about the wait! I ended up moving and was without _**internet**_ for a good two months. EEK! But we're almost at the finish line. I hope you guys like it. Next one will be the last one + snippets of the sequel I _**belive**_ that's the winner of the vote. I'm trying like hell to make sure everything gets wrapped up. Most of it. Some things bleed into the sequel. :D_**


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